


Lighthouse In A Storm

by Black_Lotus



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: #OhWhatABeautifulMorning, 221B Baker Street, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And she totally ships it!, Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Assassins & Hitmen, Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bodyguard, Character Death, Child Soldiers, Consensual Underage Sex, Cover Art, Cunnilingus, Deception, Diogenes Club, Don't trust anyone, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, F/M, Flashbacks, Forced Sterilization, Friends to Lovers, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greg Lestrade is a Good Friend, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, He totally ships it too!, M/M, MI6, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, Murder for Hire, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mythology - Freeform, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Child Mutilation, Past Kidnapping, Past child abduction, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Reluctant friends, Scars, Secret Organizations, Secrets, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Slow Burn, Sterilization, Underage Sex, indoctrination, past mental abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2020-10-11 07:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 34
Words: 117,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20542313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Lotus/pseuds/Black_Lotus
Summary: “What's this about a girl?” Mycroft asked in a rather detached tone, he had better things to do.Sherlock turned to glare at his brother.“Oh, you mean the one screaming your name?”Or, the one where Mycroft's past comes back to protect him, or does it?





	1. The Girl Screaming Your Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has some rather horrid past child abuse/torture. While the abuse is is only ever mentioned I do ask you read the tags.

Sherlock Holmes continued to pluck at the strings of his violin for the second hour running while his right foot tapped absent-mindedly on the floor of 221B Baker Street, probably annoying Missus Hudson down stairs but Sherlock didn't much care. The sound was similar to that of two shards of glass clashing against one another, or at least to anyone who wasn't Sherlock himself; a steady and repetitive twang. He stared straight ahead into the kitchen from his chair while John made the tea that the anti-social genius had demanded only a few minutes earlier; God he needed a case! Big case, little case, any goddamn case! The key to his last had been the wife's bra, elementary, easy, Lestrade could have solved it. Boring! Sherlock needed something more stimulating and less snooze worthy. Never had he wanted to see Gary or Gavin, whatever the hell his name was, so much. 

“You've got to stop sulking, Sherlock.” Said John as he handed the detective his cup before taking his usual chair where he leant back on the Union Jack pillow. “There'll be a case soon. I'm sure the second Greg needs you he'll be straight over to ask for your help.”

“I want a murder case, John. Something interesting!”

He set his violin down – _finally _thought John. If it had gone on any longer he'd have no doubt woken Rosie. Sherlock drained his mug of tea only to slam it back down.

“I know, but people don't just drop dead because you're bored.”

“I know, it's so selfish of them.” John rolled his eyes at that and reached for his own cup to take a sip. “Don't drink that.”

“What? Why?” Watson shot the curly-haired detective a confused expression.

“Because I want a kiss and frankly that overly milky concoction you call tea is disgusting.”

John sighed but it quickly gave way to a smile, that was just who Sherlock was and part of the reason John Watson loved him. After Mary's death he'd been so angry, had hated Sherlock but they were connected, something that no amount of bad could ever break and eventually John had realized that his love for the macabre genius would always win out. He'd always love Mary but there was plenty of room in his heart for Sherlock Holmes as well. He'd never forget what had happened in that aquarium... but he had forgiven; it was what Mary would have wanted. 

With that soft smile still on his face John set the cup down carefully, got up and went to his lover who quickly accepted the kiss, soft but loving, Sherlock pulled the doctor down onto his lap and gripped him tightly. 

“Happy?” John questioned with a glint in his eyes.

“When I get a case I'll be happy, but I'm _happier_.”

They kissed again letting their foreheads touch, somehow when John kissed him Sherlock's mind found peace, the world fell away and his brain managed to slow down for a few blissful moments. Usually words zoomed around his head with only a quarter of them ever adding up in his chaotic mind, but the second his lover touched him there was only one word left left; John. 

His arms tightened around John's waist while the doctor's hand came up to cup Sherlock's cheek keeping them close together, chest to chest. Sherlock could feel his boyfriend's slight five o'clock shadow against his cheeks but he couldn't bring himself to care, it helped to send little bursts of electricity through his skin allowing him to relax; and at least it wasn't that damn moustache.

John licked along the seam of his lover's lips seeking entrance that was quickly granted letting their breath mingle, Sherlock, of course, tasted of the tea he'd just downed while John still tasted faintly of his breakfast toast as well as something unique to one Doctor John Watson; Sherlock would never get enough of that.

Without warning there was a God awful bang mixed with the sharp sound of splintering wood.

“Hey! You can't go up there!”

Suddenly everything grounded to a halt when they heard that loud thud and it didn't take a mind like Sherlock's to figure out it came from the front door being kicked in, the bell had probably rung but Sherlock had yet again shot it. John hopped up from Sherlock's lap expecting some sort of fight but the younger Holmes knew Missus Hudson would have screamed if there were a real threat, instead, her yelling was more anger and annoyance driven. Still, he stood as well and moved over to the door just in time for it to fly open revealing a rather stunningly beautiful young woman... covered in blood and dripping on the floors. Sherlock nodded at Missus Hudson who stood halfway down the stairs dismissing her but she just continued until she was only a few steps behind the strange newcomer. The woman had clearly been shot in the abdomen and looked only a few seconds from passing out, face pale from blood loss and panting lungs but none of the pain reached her eyes.

“Can we help?” The great detective asked rather nonchalantly as John slipped into his _doctor mode _as his lover had taken to calling it. 

“Mycroft.” Breathed the stranger in an accent John couldn't identify. “... get Mycroft Holmes.” 

Before anyone could say another word the woman collapsed with a thud face first leaving John to dive to her aid, he checked her pulse and screamed at Sherlock to get his medical kit, it took three attempts before John actually got him to move. Missus Hudson just stood there looking worried... as well as somewhat irritated there was blood all over the floor. Sherlock raced back and dropped the kit down beside his boyfriend, mind already working on possibilities. If the elder Holmes brother was involved it could have been just about anything. 

“What has your brother done now, Sherlock?” John growled without looking up, voice tainted by worry and concern, he pulled the girl into his arms bridal style then quickly deposited her down on the black leather couch before pulling up her tank top and setting to work on what he quickly realised was a gun shot. 

“I have no idea.” The dark-haired man finally replied.

“I hope she's alright. I'm charging her for the door, she kicked it down.”

“Not now, Missus Hudson!” Sherlock shouted as he usually did but it no longer effected Missus Hudson, she just sighed and went back downstairs.

“She's exhausted and has lost a significant amount of blood, nothing looks too damaged so I can get this bullet out, patch her up here and start getting some fluids into her but she really should go to a hospital, Sherlock.”

“Let's hold off on hospitals until I get Mycroft down here. He's got some explaining to do.” 

“Greg too. If we've got someone shooting random women in the streets of London, he should know.” Muttered the doctor without looking up; hands coated in a thin layer of crimson.

~X~

Sometime later found Holmes the elder walking up the stairs to 221B Baker street wearing his usual perfectly tailored three-piece suit – this time a dark grey herringbone with pale green shirt and tie – an umbrella securely in his right hand; his own iconic symbol. When he stepped into the main room he found John making yet more tea and Sherlock staring out the window as he often did when thinking, the unconscious woman laying on their couch caused his eyebrows to raise, he'd wondered where the blood on the stairs had come from and the cause of Missus Hudson's missing door. 

“What's this about a girl?” Mycroft asked in a rather detached tone, he had better things to do. 

Sherlock turned to glare at his brother.

“Oh, you mean the one screaming your name?”

John appeared from the kitchen having forgotten about the tea in favour of preventing another Holmes brothers fight; maybe he could put that on his CV.

“She wasn't screaming it.” The Doctor signed. “I believe her exact words were 'Mycroft, get Mycroft Holmes' then she passed out.” 

“Know who she is, dear brother? One of your lackeys? Doubt it, she spoke with a Romanian accent.” The detective spoke a little too quickly but everyone had grown used to that; just another peculiarity of Sherlock Holmes.

Everything fell silent for a time as Mycroft looked at the young woman with those deductive eyes of his, he was the smart one after all. He set his ever-present umbrella against the couch. The first thing he noticed – the first thing anyone who'd ever seen her had noticed – was how stunningly beautiful the woman was, even laying there covered in drying crimson blood it couldn't be denied. Raven colored hair with ever such a slight curl to it hung around her face like a cloak, the bottoms of which had been recently cut. Her angelically smooth porcelain skin just seemed to show itself off. Mycroft leaned down and pulled back one of her eyelids surrounded by long lashes to reveal bold green eyes, almost an impossible green, they looked like two freshly polished emeralds staring blankly into the distance and around the very edge of her iris was a ring of black that only made them appear brighter. _Stunning, _Mycroft's mind muttered; there was something distantly familiar about them. Her body was athletically thin which only worked to make her chest seem larger – another thing most people would have noticed quickly. The woman had no jewellery and only wore a fitted grey tank top – that was now blood stained – and a pair of worn black jeans and boots, over the couch arm a denim waistcoat had been slung, drying blood covered it as well. 

Annoyingly, Mycroft could tell very little about her which was frightfully unusual for him, he got the basics of course but nothing deeper. Her clothing had been purchased in Montenegro judging by the label in her tank top and waistcoat but everything was at least  five years old, her boots however, were brand new,  hardly a scuff on the soles .  T here were small callouses on  both her  hand indicating she worked with them a lot but nothing like hard labour ;  the lack of a sun tan ruled that out too. T his young woman certainly didn't have a regular occupation . Then there was her age; somewhere between  twenty-five and thirty.  That was just about all he could gather f ro m her. 

Mycroft straightened himself but didn't look away from her as he spoke. 

“Unfortunately, brother mine, I have no idea who this woman is.”

“I can hardly read anything from her myself." And didn't he hated that. "She had a gun in her pocket though, a Ruger, it's on the desk” Sherlock sighed as his brother lifted her arms in search of tattoos or scars. John watched on. “Then there is that Romanian accent, it wasn't quite right, doubt anyone would notice but I've been studying Romanian, Polish and Russian accents as of late and it's not quite right.” 

Just then Greg bounded up the stairs and straight into the room, as soon as he saw the unconscious young woman his eyebrow raised. The Detective Inspector nodded to Mycroft in a silent greeting, somehow the two had become reluctant friends though neither one publicised it.

Finally Holmes the elder tilted her head to the side and pulled her hair out of the way to see the back of her neck, there he found six little numbers tattooed in jet black ink hidden away in her hairline, Mycroft paused going stiff and very silent. 

“No.” He finally said, low and almost whispered, it certainly got the attention of Sherlock, Doctor Watson and Lestrade. “It can't be.” 

Quickly Mycroft peered closer at the six numbers;  _132601, _ the detective and doctor shot their eyebrows up when the elder man esentially yanked up her top and ran a hand down her  left thigh in search of something,  his movements suddenly quickened and  be came a tad panicked . On her abdomen, almost directly underneath the wound John had patched up, was an old gunshot scar while under the fabric of her left thigh he found another raised scar indicating  further previous bullet wounds. 

“Do you make a habit of feeling up unconscious women, Mycroft?” 

Sherlock asked teasingly but Mycroft didn't dignify it with a response, instead his eyes went wide with what could only be called shock, Mycroft never let his emotions be seen so plainly and it actually worried Sherlock and John. 

“It can't be.” He whispered again almost as though he were trying to convince himself.

“What are you talking about, Myc?” Asked Greg but he was utterly ignored by everyone in the room, even Watson.

Searching the deep pockets of her oversized denim waistcoat he found the right empty – probably where the Ruger had been – while the other held a grey scarf.

“The scarf doesn't seem to fit either.” Sherlock began, mind still focused on solving the puzzle before them rather than wondering why Mycroft wasn't acting like his normal stoic self. “It's very well made, lambswool in fact, English too, I'd say Mulberry and it's probably from _Harrods_. However it's a mans. The scarf is old yet well cared for. You know it?” 

“Yes.” Responded Mycroft as he finally turned to face his brother, Lestrade and John. “It's mine.” Mycroft paused for a second shooting the woman a fleeting glance. “Little brother, I was wrong, I know exactly who she is.” 

He retrieved his umbrella almost seemingly for support.

“Well, you going to tell us?” Questioned John.

“Yeah, Myc, if you know who she is you need to tell us. We still don't know who shot her, they might hurt someone else.” 

The taller man's deep eyes, a combination of blue and grey, looked back to the fabric in his hand.

“Artemis.”


	2. The Wilds Of Finland

“Artemis.”

Only a second or two passed by after hearing that name before Sherlock pulled out the chair from the desk and set it down heavily in the centre of the room, he pointed at it powerfully.

“Sit. Now. Explain.”

Sherlock had never seen this sort of reaction from his elder brother, not even when he'd confessed to Eurus' existence. It was strange to say the very least and that peeked the consulting detective's curiosity. A highly interesting story had just popped up and when an interesting tale came along Sherlock wanted to know about it, maybe Mycroft's past would be of amusement to him. He crashed down in his own comfortable black leather chair and watched as John did the same while resting his fingers together in a pyramid and setted his chin atop it, Mycroft didn't move. 

“I'm not sitting in that godforsaken chair again.”

“Just do it.” Urged John. “ This is an injured girl not one of your petty brotherly squabbles. And why every time you sit in that chair is it about a woman?” The last part was directed more at himself tha n Mycroft. 

Reluctantly the British Government sighed, rested his umbrella against the back of the dark wood and finally sat down in the uncomfortable chair, opening the button of his suit jacket as he did. Lestrade remained standing just off to his left with his arms folded over his chest.

“Fine, and this is only the second time I've sat here, it's not as though I make a habit of this.”

“Explain, Mycroft.” Sherlock cut in a demanding tone, cerulean eyes staring past John into the kitchen. “How do you know Gun Shot Suzy over there?” He gestured to the girl with a slight movement of his head. “Why does she have your clothing?” 

“Yeah, and what sort of a name is  _ Artemis _ ?” Added Watson  with a perplexed expression . 

“Greek. Artemis is the Goddess of the hunt amongst other things-” John cut the taller man off. 

“Please tell me she's not another secret sister.”

“Good heavens no.” Mycroft responded quickly much to Sherlock's pleasure; he couldn't cope with more unknown siblings. “Sherlock and Eurus are quite enough thank y-”

“Get on with it, Mycroft. Quit stalling.” Sherlock clucked, eyes still locked on the fridge. 

“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “It was fourteen years ago when we met.”

“Where? What were you doing?”

“Sherlock, if you want to hear the story do shut up long enough for me to tell it. Just listen like when you were a child and I told you pirate stories.” The man with curly dark hair reluctantly nodded. “Fourteen years ago I went on a mission to Finland, obviously I cannot part with all the details but it was an intel gathering mission.” Mycroft went quiet for a moment as though thinking and Greg unconsciously shuffled closer. “I'm going to tell you something now and not a single one of you are ever going to repeat it to anyone unauthorised, if you do your punishment will be worse than if everyday were Christmas with our parents and murder cases didn't exist.” 

Sherlock's eyes went wide as he looked at his brother, the mental image was horrifying, he sighed.

“Now I'll have nightmares.” Sherlock muttered. “But yes alright, British secrets and all that.”

“The intel I was to gather was on Hades-”

“Hades?” John interrupted. “Who the hell is that?”

“Pun intended?” John shook his head no. “Hades is an organisation of highly trained assassins and mercenaries who ask no questions and never fail, John. Their agents are referred to as Reapers, it's all very dramatic, very cloak-and-dagger.” Sherlock turned his head to face his brother. “They're also a myth, like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.” 

“Brother mine, I assure you they are quite real. Moriarty favoured them, I suspect they were probably the ones aiming at you in that swimming pool as well as the gunmen trained on the bombing victims. Artemis is part of Hades. That mission is also part of the reason I detest legwork.”

“I'm assuming you got your intel.” Began John with a curious expression.

Sherlock cut in. “That doesn't answer the question. How did she end up with your scarf for the last fourteen years?”

Mycroft sighed and went quiet again, no doubt editing the story in his head to hide any major details they weren't authorised to know, before finally staring into the empty fire and starting the tale; Sherlock knew that tone from his childhood, that was Mycroft's story telling voice. 

“I was thirty-one years old, night had fallen and I was running for my life...”

~X~

Mycroft charged through the thick snow as more tumbled to the Finnish ground, the weather grew harsher with each second that passed and there was white as far as the eye could see. Behind him stood the only Hades base the British Government – or indeed any government - had ever been able to find; Hades was officially no longer a myth. The place looked like a run-down old factory, six stories of dark concrete and that was exactly what the decrepit worn out building was, hardly an intact pane of glass remained and looked as though the thick frozen snow was all that held up the building; underneath was where the magic happened. Miles and miles of tunnels stretched on into the distance as though it were some sort of labyrinth while the building above sat quiet and vacant in the middle of a gargantuan glade, a memory long forgotten. The building had been left over from the Second World War.

He could hear dogs snarling as he continued to run through the white, his breath turned to mist as he panted. Mycroft had been so careful,  _so careful_ , as he'd crept down into the Hades base, it had taken him ages to remain unseen but he'd done it, and then one stupid guard had decided to go for a cigarette early and spotted him;  Christ he hated legwork . That was how he'd ended up running for his life in what looked to be almost  six  inches of snow, every step was draining but Mycroft wasn't a quitter, he might have had to quit smoking though, his lungs were killing him.  He'd found a decent pile of information though, their next two targets, it would have been nice to have had more time and search for more but no, that damn guard had turned early and forced him to charge off into the snow with expertly trained assassins giving chase. Thankfully the snow had started to turn into a storm making it practically impossible for sharpshooters to get a lock on him, one small boon, the fresh snow would also quickly hide his tracks and the wind was on his side making it hard for the dogs to follow his scent. His only problem was that in all that chaos and  biting wind he wasn't a hundred percent sure if he was heading in the right direction, still, escaping Hades was his first priority. 

Suddenly something caught his eye, dark and different from the white coated trees, a cabin maybe. He'd seen a couple of them dotted around the huge glade but none of them looked like they were populated or used regularly. Just when Mycroft thought he'd survive the snow and Hades something – or more correctly someone – tackled him to the ground where he landed with a thud, thick snow momentarily cut off his air supply and burned his lungs.

“Fuck!”

Instantly he was flipped onto his back and pinned down by a girl – a teenager if his eyes were correct – there must have been something in the way he looked at her because surprisingly she paused for a moment, which gave him enough of a chance to buck the girl off of him and go for his gun. He fired without really aiming and hit her in the left thigh, the girl didn't scream, hardly even flinched, but her leg did buckle sending her to the frozen ground. Mycroft scrambled to his feet just before she managed to lunge at him and slammed the butt of his weapon against the side of her head knocking her out. 

He stood there for a moment, snow slowly covered them both over, the gun aimed firmly at her head, she was just a teenager and looked cold in her short sleeved green t-shirt and torn blue jeans, breath huffed out in streams of mist but she didn't shiver. Instead of killing her he gathered the girl up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way to the cabin while trying to convince himself he could get more information from her. The snow made quick work of hiding evidence, blood and all.

The cabin's door squeaked when Mycroft opened it and the interior was practically void of anything, just one room with one small frosted over window and a rather hideous couch pressed up against the wall to the right of the wooden door, in front of it was a small rural looking coffee table topped with a first aid box. Mycroft dropped the girl onto the uncomfortable metal framed couch with green stained cushions and tugged a pair of handcuffs he'd found in the Hades base from his back pocket, quickly he cuffed her hands to the metal frame before pulling down her bloody jeans and grabbing the first aid box. 

Time went on with quiet save for the storm that had turned into a vengeful blizzard, all he could see out the tiny window was a small black blob that was actually the ruined building; everything else was a white wasteland. He was safe until the storm slowed or stopped, which ever came first. His fingers were cold as he worked on her thigh but then again all of him was.

“What are you doing?” She asked in an American accent.

Mycroft stilled for only a second before he locked his fear away behind that mask of his and displayed only confidence. 

“Calm yourself, little assassin.” He started without looking up from what he was doing. “You have a bullet in your thigh and I am in the middle of removing it, so hold still.”

The raven haired woman obeyed but only because she could see he wasn't a trained medic and didn't want his hand slipping.

“There we are.” He said removing the dented bullet from her thigh, he was surprised she didn't flinch, not the slightest hiss of pain.

Mycroft set the bullet aside before setting to work sewing the wound up and bandaging it. Her thigh felt like ice just like the rest of her and the fact she hadn't spoken since that first sentence unnerved him a little. Carefully he pulled her jeans back up and looked up prepared to speak but noticed something was different, she'd dislocated her thumb and had started to slip her cuffs; Mycroft hadn't heard so much as a clank of metal on metal frankly he was impressed. 

“I'm afraid not, little assassin.”

He forcible popped her thumb back into place and pulled free the grey scarf from around his neck and tied it around her wrists to make slipping her cuffs nigh on impossible.

“Killjoy.” She jested flatly as though he knew the words but not the feeling.

He found that accent of hers strange, primarily American but ended with an almost Russian flair, it wasn't a natural accent that was for sure. She was a puzzle to Mycroft and that intrigued him. 

“What brings the British Government here, hmm? Besides the promotion you want.” There was that Russian flair again at the end of certain words.

_Clever one isn't she? _ He asked himself silently.  _ Maybe she's not just a brain dead killer, maybe this one actually has an intellect.  _ Mycroft couldn't let her think she was in charge though, she was the handcuffed one after all. 

“I'm afraid I'll be asking the questions, little assassin. Let us start easy. How did you know I wanted a promotion? Guess or deduction?” He cursed himself for his curiosity into her, he should have just gotten to the point and started drilling her for information.

Her emerald eyes glanced over him.

“Why should I answer any of your questions?”

“Because I can make you hurt.”

The raven haired beauty before him just stared back at Mycroft with impossible green eyes as she tried to decipherer everything about him. 

“You're funny, I like you. Seriously though, you have no idea how I was trained, torture was my wake up session as a child, still is. You can't do anything to me.” She took a breath looking him over again in his thick, warm – and expensive – clothing. “However, I'm I suspect you want a chat and there's a blizzard outside, plus I like you so I'll answer. It was a deduction. You're clearly not built for field work which means you give orders rather than carrying them out. You're the brains not the brawn. The only reason someone like you would come here in this weather to a place like this is if you want something, and I bet this mission makes you look incredibly dedicated to your boss'. So either you're the real life Dan Fielding or there's a promotion in the offering.” 

Mycroft nodded to himself. 

“Very good. Next question, how old are you?” The girl had said she'd been with Hades since childhood which suggested they trained child soldiers; a worrying turn of events. 

“I don't know.” Her response came a little too quickly.

“Please don't lie to me-” Mycroft looked into those green eyes of hers. “Oh, you're not lying. You actually don't know.”

“Hard to know your age when being a Reaper is all you can remember.” She leaned forwards ever so slightly, her long straight hair slipped down around her shoulders like a cloak. “How long until your government comes looking for you? Or will they not bother?”

“I told you, little assassin, I'll be asking the questions. What is your name?”

The Reaper didn't know why she answered him, there was just something about the older man that made her want to talk to him and for her that was highly unusual; it went against everything she'd ever been taught. 

“I don't have one. What's yours?”

Mycroft could see she was once again telling the truth and the explanation as to why she was a mystery to him suddenly became clear, she was a mystery to herself. He decided to completely ignore her question, the auburn haired man had never met a blank slate before. 

“I think I'll light the fire, in this weather no one will see it and you do not have nearly enough layers on.”

There was silence as he turned to the fireplace, Mycroft knew he didn't have the skill to break her and he was pretty certain that the best England had to offer would struggle. He also found himself cursing his brain for this strange wave of care that had washed over him,  _you do not have nearly enough layers on, _ why in hell did he care? The tall man with auburn-red hair decided to focus on the fire, it was old fashioned and there didn't seem to be any matches in the draws to the left of it,  _the one time I don't have my lighter_ _. Friction fire it is then. _ _A_ large dead tree  stood  just outside the cabin  almost hid d en away in the darkness of night  that had been shielded a little from the snow and after only a few seconds Mycroft had torn a few sticks away that were dry enough to be used, the nameless Reaper just watched him as though he were  the evening's  entertainment. Mycroft dropped the sticks down onto the hardwood floor,  slammed the cabin door shut  and sat down cross-legged before the fireplace, with his knife he quickly flattened either side of the thicker stick then cut a little dent into one side, it had been years since he'd done this. The other stick he stripped of its bark and sharpened to a slight point, rising up to his knees Mycroft pressed a foot down onto the flattened piece of wood pressed the other stick into the cut out dent and started rubbing his hands together frantically spinning the wood, the girl watched on for a while until finally she broke the quietude. 

“You need to cut a notch in that hearth otherwise you're going to set the floor on fire.” He looked over to see her smiling softly, she wasn't teasing him, just trying to help. “You can use the plastic packet you took the needle for my leg from to gather the coal up.” 

The Reaper made a good point and Mycroft reached across the small cabin to grab the packet from the coffee table before cutting the notch just as she'd said, he wasn't an outdoor person and to be honest was a little surprised to find he'd not deleted the information.  Soon after he had the smouldering coal and nestled it in the shavings he'd made before setting it in the fire with the logs, slowly the fire came to life. 

“Well done, British.” She smiled at him and why did he find it so beautiful? Why did he want to make sure she never stopped smiling?

“Thank you.” He found himself replying, eyes looking away to watch the fire grow and start to radiate heat.

Mycroft tidied the mess he'd made away into the corner by the door so it was out the way then sat on the floor by the fire, he'd have rather been at home by the fire but Uncle Rudy was gone and he had to make his own way in the world now; hence Finland. 

“Have you always been obsessive compulsive?” The girl asked from where she sat chained to the couch.

Mycroft regarded her plainly with a raised eyebrow. “I am not.” 

“Yes you are. There are more server cases of OCD but you definitely are, or haven't you noticed you just stacked all the trash up in order of size?”

He just continued to watch her; she was faster than Sherlock. Mycroft cleared his throat and leant back against the wall, at least being trapped in the godforsaken cabin wouldn't be boring. 

“You're rather observant, aren't you, little assassin.”

“The things we don't notice usually get us killed.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

Silence hung between them then as the small fire crackled. They were two sides of a war hardly anyone knew about, literally the brain and the brawn.

“I like your hair.” She asked suddenly after a time.

He hadn't expected to hear anything like that from her – from anyone really – and found himself turning to shoot her a confused expression.

“What?” Surely he'd misheard, no one ever liked anything about him save for his money and ability to solve problems quickly, there was certainly nothing appealing about his appearance. 

“Your hair, I like it. Most auburn hair is a combination of brown and red which is actually ginger, yours is like brown and wine. It's unusual, I like it. I bet it was brighter as a child.” 

“Are you even old enough to drink?” He shot back, if it wasn't for that truthful spark in her eyes he'd have believed her to be teasing him as Sherlock often did. 

“I kill people for an organisation that you assumed was a myth until you came to Finland, do you really think legal drinking age matters?”

“I suppose not, especially since you don't know your age.”

There was something about this Reaper that Mycroft found easy to talk to and that both worried and pleased him; worried because she so easily affected him, and pleased because he'd have someone to talk to until the storm stopped rather than living in his head like he usually did. Mycroft wouldn't admit it but he was lonely. 

“How old are you?” Was it possible she found it easy to talk to him as well?

“You can't do much damage with that information. I'm thirty-one.” It was only then he noticed her shivering, despite her subconsciously hiding it; that seemed to be a built in response. “Here.” Without intending to that wave of care hit him again, Mycroft tugged of his thick coat and slipped it around her shoulders. “You're cold.” 

“Why do you care?” She whispered, her face confused but she displayed no emotion at all.

Mycroft paused, he was known for being cold and emotionless himself but where he wore a mask to hide his feelings he was beginning to believe she couldn't feel them at all; had been taught not to. 

“I don't.” Mycroft told her quickly before he yawned. “I'm going to sleep now, I've been up for almost seventy-two hours so I think I deserve it.”

He'd tied her hands tightly and she couldn't dislocate her thumbs again so he was sure he'd be able to get a few hours without her escaping and trying to killing him, outside it had gone almost pitch black but the sound of high wind and snow echoed outside like a Banshee; Hades would have been forced to retreat. Mycroft lay down over by the warm fire and settled down for a while, gun clutched in his hand just in case; he was asleep in seconds. The Reaper just watched knowing she couldn't kill him. 

Practically an hour went by before she managed to loosen the scarf and get her hands free of the handcuffs, he'd almost made it impossible, _almost. _Standing up she stretched her arms above her head, careful not to over wrench her leg. The British man over by the fire looked so peaceful in slumber, the tiny lines around his eyes had relaxed making him look a decade younger and stubble had started to grow on his face; it didn't suit him. The Reaper knew she should have just killed him and left, gone back to Hades with the information he'd stolen and never think about him again, instead she heard the fire crackle and lure her into its warmth. Rather than killing the British man she found herself laying down beside him, snuggling into his warmth and drifting off to sleep. 


	3. The British Government And The Teenager

It was the early hours of the morning and the snow showed no sign of stopping. When Mycroft awoke he found himself feeling calm, refreshed and relaxed which was unusual for him, normally Mycroft awoke to thoughts of work rushing around his head but this time he woke slowly and peacefully. He lay on his back beside the dwindled fire and rapidly blinked away sleep for a few moments before registering a heartbeat against his side, Mycroft paused for a second or two before daring to look down. There, cuddled up into his left side with a hand rested on his chest, was the Reaper, thankfully he still held his gun. Faster than lightning Mycroft jumped back jolting her awake, the raven haired woman didn't fight as Mycroft pinned her to the uneven wood floor, gun pressed against her heart. He couldn't understand why, this young woman was just a line of question marks to him, _????_, that really did intrigue him, and those big green eyes were so deep and kept drawing him in; _why does she have this effect on me?_

“Why did you not kill me?” He finally asked, voice deep and grainy with lack of use.

She stared at him for a moment as though taking in each and every feature of his face, committing it to memory while at the same time trying to figure him out. 

“You shouldn't stare longingly into my eyes.” She teased and Mycroft had to hide a blush. “Means you're not watching my hands.” 

Suddenly she wrenched the weapon from his hand and flipped them, the barrel of the gun firmly against his throat; _God I'm out of practice. _That was only part of the reason, the rest was simply he found her distracting. She paused for a moment looking almost apologetic.

“The reason I didn't kill you is because I didn't want to. I like you, remember? If you find yourself alive in a room with an assassin then they don't want you dead.” Slowly she handed the gun back. “A Beretta 92FS, semi-automatic, designed in nineteen-seventy-two and accurate as well as durable, it suits you.” Carefully she clambered off him and shuffled back putting an appropriate distance between the two of them once more; Mycroft sat up. “I was cold that's all and you were so warm over by the fire.” 

“Didn't think you were bothered by the cold.” He rolled his shoulders. “How did you get out?” He asked and she smiled. 

“You ask a lot of questions you already know the answer to, don't you? I nearly didn't, I was about to give up when I got lucky.” The Reaper sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Neither of us can leave this tiny cabin until the storm ends, even Reapers won't risk coming out here – but they'll know you're either dead or in one of these cabins – so what about a truce until then?” 

“Heavens forbid we even become friendly.”

She chuckled at that  and if Mycroft didn't know better he would have believed she actually  _wanted _ to be there with him.  _Torture won't get anything out of her, she's grown numb to that. Talking might get her guard down, she might let something of importance slip if I play along. _

“Alright, little assassin, truce.”

“Stop calling me _little assassin_, you can call me thirteen if you require a name.” The Reaper rested her head back against the the wall while Mycroft went to bring the fire back to life. 

“That is not a real name, and why thirteen?” 

“Tell you what, you tell me your name and I'll answer.”

“Simon.” Said Mycroft easily, as though he'd said it so many times before. 

“Liar.” Started Thirteen flatly. “However, you are right, thirteen isn't exactly a name so I guess Simon is a fair trade, next time though pick something that suits you; certainly something with a 'M'.” 

“I'll keep that in mind, now tell me about thirteen.” Mycroft – having brought the fire back to life – sat across from her on the floor, jeans ruffling. 

He watched as the Reaper gathered up her long hair and turned to give him her back.

“Come look.” Cautiously Mycroft obeyed, shuffling across the hard floor until he was close enough to just make out tiny numbers hidden in her hairline,  _132601\. _ “It's my designation, closest thing to a name I have.” 

She let her hair drop and turned back around leaving her face just a bit too close to Mycroft's and they both jumped back slightly. He didn't rush back to the other side of the cabin though, instead he sat down with his back against the wall beside her.  The girl that had dove on him had been talented and violent but the one sat beside him seemed lonely and Mycroft knew all about that, Britain knew Hades was a dangerous and ruthless organisation but it seemed the way they treated their agents was just as bad. 

“Do all of you have those tattoos?” He asked nonchalantly knowing that it may have offered a way of identifying Reapers in the future.

“We're suppose to but some have burnt them off or had them removed for one reason or another.”

_ Won't identify all of them then, but it could still be very useful.  _

“Do you use those to refer to each other?”

“No, it's just to keep track of whose who.” She answered knowing exactly what he was doing. The Reaper smiled when she heard his stomach growl. “You're not going to go cannibal on me are you?” 

“I would never stoop to something so revolting. You have no Hannibal-like behaviour to worry about from me, I assure you.”

“You'll be amazed what people will do when they are hungry enough... and who is Hannibal?”

Mycroft wasn't very good with popular culture, never had been and probably never would be but Hannibal Lecter was one of the best known literary names of all time; he was up there with Dracula and Victor Frankenstein. 

“I suggest you read a book.” He advised casting his eyes back to the fire, her young age didn't excuse an avoidance of reading. 

“Beyond being taught to read I don't get books, killing people doesn't require me to be social or have a vast literary knowledge.” 

“Still, you said Dan Fielding before I went to sleep. How can you know who he is and yet not know Hannibal Lecter?” By all accounts it didn't make sense. 

“I was sent with a unit to kill a man a few months ago, the apartment was bugged and he left the television on, I could hear the show while I waited for a clear shot. I understood the promiscuity of his character and the fact he was an ass-kisser but not why that was funny.” 

_Didn't just knock on the door then so the little assassin is probably a sharpshooter primarily, explained why I managed to buck her off so easily. Hand to hand is not her best area._

“What's your favourite color?” She asked after a moment of of silence. 

“What sort of a question is that?” Mycroft detested casual conversation and he started to wonder if the teenager had ever engaged such a thing or if this was some kind of experiment.

“That's what normal people do, right?” The raven haired young woman asked as she rested her head back against the wooden wall. “Ask each other pointless questions in the guise of polite conversation.”

“Yes. I suppose _normal _people do.” Responded Mycroft, _how on Earth did I end up in this situation? _

“Normal people are goldfish.” She muttered back softly and Mycroft laughed, uncharacteristic for him, so much so that it actually surprised him a little.

“Goldfish, I like that, I may use it. And it's green.” He'd not intended to answer the question, it just slipped out. Much to his surprise and disgruntlement Mycroft realised he actually liked the idea of just sitting and talking to her. “What's yours?” He asked quickly in a tone that hid his growing enjoyment. 

“I don't have one. I'm not supposed to favour things like that, that's why I don't have a favourite food, animal or any of that other internet dating shit.”

“It isn't just that though is it?” The fire crackled as heat slowly radiated out through the cabin. “You didn't show an ounce of pain when I shot you and didn't flinch when I dug the bullet out. You're trained not to feel anything, to shut off your emotions.” Mycroft did much the same on a daily basis but Thirteen had taken it to a whole new extreme. 

“That's about the sum of it.” She sighed. The girl squinted. “Pain is negative, isn't it? The one that hurts?” 

Suddenly Euros was there before him as a child. 'Which one's pain?' he heard her ask in that dark voice. No, he couldn't let his sister in now. Mycroft forced it away.

“You said you liked me, liked my hair. That doesn't strike me as someone who obeys the rules.” _All that training and yet hints of emotion still poke out, __broken and disused but they're there,_ Mycroft's mind muttered. 

“We all break the rules at some point, _Simon, _and I prefer to think of it as bending them.” 

The British government smiled again, Thirteen seemed to have a talent for making him smile and it was a little worrying for Mycroft to find this teenager had power over him. His pale blue eyes glanced over the cabin, it was small and almost completely  empty save for a few cupboards to the left of the front door below a frosted over window. Mycroft and the teen sat facing the window, the fire crackling to their right,  wooden walls held no decoration  of any kind giving up nothing as to who owned or built them.  Overall the cabin looked like it had just been erected and in the elder Holmes' opinion it looked cheep. The girl watched him easily, not bothering to hide the attention she was giving him. 

“Go on, ask, _Simon._” 

“What are these cabins for?” By encouraging him to ask it became clear that she was willing to grant him information, almost as though she knew it wouldn't amount to anything or effect Hades. “They're not stocked, not manned, they do not serve as look outs and I see no evidence of them being monitored so I doubt they're used very often. However, to ground troops with no access to satellites it makes Hades appear more populated, I myself was careful not to get too close to these cabins. 

“Got it in one.” She grinned. “We also occasionally run training exercisers out of them.” 

Conversation died down after that, Mycroft was too busy inside the expanses of his mind, snippets of information slotting into place as he mentally wrote his report. He did however, notice the girl's hands moving about skilfully with her emerald eyes closed, as though assembling a rifle. She repeated the action several times growing faster and faster with each new run through, with that Mycroft knew his deduction of her being a sharpshooter had been correct; he'd always admired snipers, they were patient and precise, masters at their craft. And this girl – no more than fifteen or sixteen – had a lifetime to grow even better. 

Why was it that the strange murderer who'd just tried to kill him had more in common with Mycroft than just about anyone he'd ever met, even Sherlock? None of that was important there and then though, she was just a child really, a teenager. The British Government had known about Hades for decades, they knew about their heavily trained killers and mercenaries that never failed but this, using child soldiers, even Mycroft Holmes hadn't expected that. In truth it all made sense, the younger they were taken the more time to train and condition them into being the perfect little murderer. He suspected Hades had been in possession of this girl – he refused to call her Thirteen – for a very long time. She was an adult in a child's body, hadn't ever had a childhood. 

~X~

Sherlock, John nor Greg Lestrade looked overly impressed with what Mycroft had been telling them. A secret trip to a base run by an army of trained assassins and the British Government had sent  _ Mycroft _ of all people? They'd never heard anything quite so ludicrous; Sherlock almost found it laughable. Holmes the elder had always detested legwork and though strong of mind hadn't ever possessed a strong body, would have been easy enough to break him like a twig of someone wanted to. However, Sherlock had to admit to himself that Mycroft was excellent at deception, he'd smuggled himself into Serbian ranks easily enough to save him. 

“So you're telling me that – because of you – I now have a bloody assassin in my flat with my baby daughter asleep upstairs?!” John panicked from his usual seat; eyes wide.

Mycroft sighed. “Artemis is of no danger to you.” 

“No danger? She kills people, Mycroft!” John shouted. “Is every woman we meet a goddamn assassin?” 

Sherlock and Lestrade still tried to wrap their heads around Hades actually existing. Neither man had ever believed the whispered rumours about them, it had always seemed too Bond movie in their opinions but Mycroft Holmes wasn't the sort of man to make something like this up and the girl was right there in front of them to prove it.

“Not all women, John.” Said Sherlock plainly. “Just her and Mary, that's not a very large percentage.”

Mycroft breathed out a small laugh, so low and small that it was hardly even noticeable.

“I assure you, Doctor Watson, while your wife was an extraordinary shot and trained killer she is nothing compared to what Artemis is capable of. Do you know why?”

John glared at him. “Do I care?”

“Almost certainly not.” Sighed Mycroft. 

“I'll cuff her.” Greg told them as he tugged his handcuffs free from his belt. “Better to be safe than sorry, huh, Myc.” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Gregory, did you even listen to the start of what I was saying? She'll be out of those in a matter of seconds and choke you to death with them.” 

Lestrade glanced down cautiously to the unconscious woman then to Mycroft and finally to his cuffs before he tucked them away again. 

“Okay, maybe not then.”

“If Artemis is here,” began the elder Holmes brother which jolted Greg and Sherlock out of their thoughts “then something is seriously wrong. She has asked for me specifically and somewhere that her superiors will not be looking for her which means it will be to do with Hades itself. I would also like to add, _John_, that were Artemis to want you or little Rosie dead then we would not be having this conversation, I'd be tending to my dear brother's broken heart as he cried over your corpse.”

“Stop being smug, Mycroft!” Growled Sherlock as he continued to stare off past John into the kitchen as he thought. “Just get on with the damn story.”

Reluctantly Mycroft carried on. 


	4. The Tortured Child

Several gruelling and cold hours had gone by since the blizzard had set in, a blizzard that had only grown stronger. The thick wooden walls creaked and screamed as snow settled atop the roof and wind beat against the door like a police knock. The dead tree's branches scraped and scratched. Chaos howled around them but inside the cabin everything was quiet and unexpectedly calm; peaceful even.

Mycroft had managed to get the girl to open up and talk about little bits of Hades' internal workings though it wasn't all that useful. She was a smart one, this girl was clearly as intelligent as Sherlock – maybe ever so slightly more – but she didn't feel the need to flaunt it; probably a result of the lack of emotion. Despite the bits of information he squeezed from the raven-haired teenager not being all that useful it was still more than his government had possessed before. It was too easy though. 

“Why are you teasing me with these little bits of information?” He asked quietly. “Feeding me scraps so you can work some out of me.”

The teenager shrugged and spoke without taking her eyes from the small fire. “Our truce will end, British. You're going to die when this blizzard breaks … best resign yourself to it.”

“Ah! So it's the classic _won't live long enough to tell anyone_ game. Boring.” He sighed disinterestedly. “I have no intention of dying in Finland of all places. I may surprise you and live.”

She looked him over then, her emerald eyes revealed nothing of her inner thoughts and frankly Mycroft found that refreshing; it had always been so underwhelming to just _see _everything.

“No you won't, but I welcome you to try.”

Mycroft had always been the smart brother, he knew this girl was right; she could kill him at any second if she wished. He was fully aware the only reason she hadn't – despite what she'd said – was that she wanted to see what information she could bleed from him. Then again, there was always the possibility of him talking his way out of it; a very tiny possibility but it was there glinting away and Mycroft would lunge at it. 

“You're rather young, fourteen to sixteen I'd say judging by the lack of static lines on your face, the firmness of your neck and breast development. Going on that I wonder, how long has Hades had you?”

“I don't know.” She leant her head back against the wall while Mycroft continued to watch her. 

“You have no memories from before? I suppose you could have been born into this.”

“I was not.” She sounded certain of that. “I do remember something though, a car crash and a boy, young, dark hair, covered in blood, dead. Water too. It is not important.”

This teenager really was numb to emotion. “You don't care where you came from? Don't miss your family?”

“No. Caring implies an emotional connection and emotions lead to mistakes and disloyalty. Hades trains it out of us rather successfully. Then again, you should know that, British, you did break into our child training centre.”

“We didn't know there were children here.”

“The inexperience and lack of training is probably the only reason you made it this far.”

Mycroft hated that she was right. He missed his home and his old movies, his peace and quiet, his tailored suits! He really wasn't designed for legwork, at least not anymore. A long time ago when he'd been in his twenties working for British Secret Services he's been passable, wasn't like he'd ever been Johnny Fedora but still he'd been passable … now he was more like Nancy goddamn Drew. 

“Hades is like an iceberg isn't it, little assassin.” He let his legs kick out straight towards the fire. “No matter how much horror we're aware of there is always something worse just underneath the surface.”

“It takes a certain mindset to do what I do, British, that's why Hades gets to us so young. And who is going to suspect a little girl?” She flashed him a smirk but it seemed forced, as though the action wasn't fully known to her. “An assassin can't afford to be reckless or waver. We don't kill out of greed or desperation, for sport or even hate, and despite what you may think of us, we don't let ourselves become animals. Our feelings are always the first target so we eliminate them, only when they're cold and buried can we train our sights on our victims.” Her eyes raked over him a moment. “You should know the cost of doing business is high, and I am fully aware that feelings are hard to kill, but they're far harder to resurrect.” 

Mycroft had always prided himself on being intelligent and always having a comment or a come back to off balance others but this girl left him speechless; he couldn't imagine the torture she must have gone through to deaden her thoughts and feelings, quite frankly he didn't want to imagine.

~X~

The British Government fell silent when the black leather couch squeezed, he turned around in the uncomfortable wooden chair just in time to see Artemis sit up. John was up and by her side in a matter of seconds back in full doctor mode. Mycroft and Greg watched while Sherlock carried on just staring into the kitchen blankly. 

“You need to take it steady.” Said John but Artemis just rose to her feet and yanked the IV drip Watson had fitted free of her body without a single hint of pain. “Or you could do that. I need you to sit down so I can take a look at you. You've lost a fair amount of blood.”

The raven-haired beauty grabbed Mycroft's aged scarf and stuffed it in her back pocket. When John tried to rest a hand on her shoulder and force her back to the couch she cast him a look and he instantly backed away; he may not have been as smart as the Holmes' but he knew when to pick his battles. 

Mycroft stood as Greg once again reached for his cuffs. 

“If you could resist the urge to handcuff someone for longer than two minutes that would be wonderful, thank you, Gregory.”

Artemis rolled her shoulders, the blood loss was evident but the IV fluids had done her a world of good, as had John's quick thinking. She pulled her bloody top up a little to see the damage but showed no signs of … well, anything really. 

When Mycroft spoke Artemis dropped her crimson stained top and snapped up to the elder man. 

“Why are you here, Artemis.” Smile, the all clocked it. Tiny and hardly there but for someone who'd they'd come to learn didn't feel anything it was quite the statement. “Who shot you?” 

The assassin cleared her throat and spoke again in that Romanian accent. “There is a price out on your head, British, Lady Smallwood's as well.” Mycroft only raised an eyebrow while Lestrade and John grew concerned. “Due to your position and stretch of authority only Hades is willing to take the contract.” Artemis' voice was really rather monotone. “We have also accepted it because the contracts work in conjunction with another task we have accepted which is to acquire information on a classified project codenamed _Tesla_.”

Greg raised an eyebrow, this girl sounded like a female Mycroft now she'd started reeling off a wealth of information. 

“And, pray tell, how much is my death worth?”

“In total Hades stands to make a profit of fifty-one million, though we are paid in bitcoin.” 

“Fifty-one million!?” DI Lestrade's eyes went wide. “Fifty-one bloody million?”

Artemis cast a glance at him. “Yes, Detective Inspector.”

“How does she-?” Mycroft cut his friend off with a gentle gesture. 

“It's really rather evident.” He turned his attention back to the girl. “Go on, Artemis.” 

“For your death, thirty million, for Protect Tesla it is twenty million and one million for Lady Smallwood's death. The price was originally a hundred thousand but – as you know – that is nothing for someone with priority ultra clearance.”

Mycroft swelled with fake modesty. “Thirty million for little old me?” 

“British, don't pretend you aren't aware of how many people want you dead and will pay for it.”

Suddenly Sherlock launched up from his seat and started to pace around Artemis though she didn't seem phased. Knowing he had no hope of giving out any more medical skill, John fell back into his own chair while Greg leant on the back of it; he should have been back at Scotland Yard but this was like dinner and a show.

“You can stop whatever morbid flirting this is with my brother and get on with explaining. Why? Why would you come here to reveal everything to your intended target knowing that all that wealth was on the line and that by doing so your organisation will undoubtedly want you dead?” 

Sherlock continued to slowly circle her but Artemis didn't pay him any mind, she just caught Mycroft's blue eyes with her green ones. 

“You know why, British.”

Everyone's attention went to Mycroft a moment but he gave nothing away. Sherlock jumped in again. 

“Yes, yes, hung out in a cabin, we know. I'm surprised you didn't kill him for breathing. Now, back to more important – and frankly more interesting – facts. What is Hades' plan?”

“It's really rather simple.” Artemis moved out of Sherlock's circling and perched on the couch arm. “By now I'll have been placed in the list of your security detail under the name Hope Cole-”

“If you're already in the British Secret Service's systems why not just _take _the project?”

Mycroft flashed Sherlock that unimpressed elder brother face he's had so many years of practice at. 

“It's a separate network entirely, little brother, don't be so dense. Does it hurt being so slow?”

“Shut up, Mycroft.” Grumbled the younger Holmes. 

“British, earlier today your car was attacked and diverted while your security detail broke off to pursue.” 

“Hardly a blip.” Came his quick reply.

“That's because Hades didn't want you dead. We just needed to separate your security from you long enough to kill them all.”

That got Greg perking up and slipping into full concerned policeman. 

“You're saying there were shots fired in the middle of London and no one alerted the police. What if a civilian had died? God, sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”

Unfortunately for Lestrade, as always, he went completely ignored by the other three men and woman in the flat.

“I was to become the surviving member of your security. You had a woman of my height and similar features so it would be easy to just swap our pictures out and have me replace her. Of course everyone else had to be dead for that to work.” 

Mycroft smile one of those tiny smirks of his. “Clever.” 

“Not as clever as you are.” Replied Artemis. She paused. “I'm supposed to sound English, aren't I.” She cleared her throat and when the raven-haired beauty spoke again it was as though she'd been born and raised in England all her life, gone was the Romanian accent into the aether. “Sorry, that's better.” 

“Hmm, I take it the bullet wound is to increase believability.” The elder Holmes brother commented. “Expertly shot to cause heavy blood loss but miss anything vital.”

John seemed shocked. “They just shot one of there own? What if they'd killed her?” 

Mycroft spoke over his shoulder. “I assure you, Doctor Watson, Hades wouldn't have batted an eye. What is Hades' next step?” 

“To have me infiltrate and observe you until I have access to the information I require, then kill Lady Smallwood and finally you.” 

“Why you specifically though? Just coz you look like this Hope girl?” Greg questioned.

Artemis cast him a look, her eyes impossibly green like emeralds in firelight. Unlike everything else she said, when Artemis spoke again there was actual emotion in it; faint but it was there. 

“When I found out Mycroft Holmes was their target I told my superiors about the cabin. Told them that you were the one who broke into the child training centre fourteen years ago. I knew that would make sure I was the one they sent.” 

“Why?”

“Obvious, Gregory. I got away. I got away and now that they know it's me they want her to prove she didn't _let _me go, that she's still loyal by killing me. They want her to fix her mistake.”

“Still doesn't answer why she's doing all this. Could have just killed you.” Sherlock looked almost desperately at Artemis. “Why couldn't you just kill him? You'd put so many people out of their misery. You had it all planed out so perfect and plan-y.”

The assassin's face remained unreadable. “Because Mycroft Holmes is the one man in the world I can't kill.” Her brow furrowed a moment. “No, that's wrong, I could kill him really rather easily, he's stood right there. I could kill all of you. It's because Mycroft Holmes is the one man in the world I _will not _kill. I refuse.”

Greg and John just stared at Artemis while Sherlock seemed confused and ever so slightly repulsed. Mycroft though had heard enough, Lestrade, Watson and his brother shouldn't have heard this much. He took out his phone and quickly called Anthea, he shuffled over to the fireplace and gave her orders quietly only to learn that all his security were indeed dead though Miss Cole's body hadn't been found; everything Artemis had told him was true. Athena seemed half prepared to take London to DEFCON 1 but he stopped her in her tracks. Mycroft hung up and stuffed his phone away and turned his attention back to Sherlock's dusty flat. 

He cleared his throat. “Brother mine, you and your rather short lover needn't hear any more of this.” John made to complain but Mycroft just carried on talking. “Gregory, should civilians be placed in harms way and I believe that you can actually provide assistance I shall, of course, inform you.”  _So he was listening_ , muttered Greg's mind. “I'll also see to it that Artemis here gets the best medical attention in all of London back at my office.” He retrieved his umbrella and handed Artemis her Ruger. “Come along, little assassin.” 

Artemis smiled again and one didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to clock it. She followed him to the stairs and started to descend them when Mycroft gestured for her to go first. However, The British Government ground to a halt when Lestrade caught him by the shoulder. 

“Myc, are you okay? I know you won't admit to it in front of Sherlock but are you? You never told us how you got out of that cabin. You know you can talk to me if you need to, I'm your friend.”

Mycroft still wasn't used to having friends and he really wasn't too sure how he'd found one in Gregory Lestrade but he was thankful for the Detective Inspector's concern. 

“I assure you I am fine, Gregory. Also, do not worry yourself over Hades, they've been operating everywhere for as long as anyone can remember. If there was a real threat I'd be rushing to my car rather than walking.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You're Mister Government and I'm just an idiot.” Lestrade said as though he'd heard that a thousand times before.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Gregory, you might not be intelligent when compared to my brother and I but, if I were to believe you stupid I would be stupid myself.” 

Without another word Mycroft made his way down the stairs where he found Missus Hudson scowling at Artemis as the assassin waited by the kicked in door. His blue eyes glanced between the door and the two women as he breathed out a sigh. 

“I'll have someone come and repair that for you, Missus Hudson. Good day.”

Holmes the elder and Artemis got into the waiting car and sat a moment in quiet before he instructed his driver to take them back to his office and to raise the divider to give them a little privacy. Quiet lingered between them again, Mycroft found it a little awkward but the green-eyed girl remained blank faced.

“Why are you trusting me, British?” Artemis asked. “I could be playing you for a fool.”

He breathed out a laugh. “As if you could.” He fiddled with his umbrella. “But to answer your question I'm trusting you because I know you don't fully follow Hades' rules and that you are still your own person somewhere deep down.” Mycroft regarded her a moment before he got back to business. “We are going to let Hades' plot continue as they intend and you, little assassin, will from now on be my … _personal bodyguard. _Best to make it all look convincing and that you're hard at work.” When he glanced at Artemis he could see she was listening intently. “I am going to use your knowledge to shut down Hades. Will you help me?” 

Silence. The lack of noise hung between them a while and Mycroft actually started to grow concerned but then, like a ghost uttering an answer in an empty room, she replied.

“Yes.” Artemis nodded. “You have no idea how long that will take though, Mycroft. And why?”

He shrugged a little. “Because Hades has been a thorn in England's side for decades, because they abuses children and turn them into soldiers, because if Hades is gone then people like Jim Moriarty won't have an army available to them for a simple price. Mostly though,” he paused for dramatic effect “it's because they made me run through snow.”


	5. Because People Are Scared Of You

Mycroft's eyes hurt. He'd been stuck in that cabin for a full day and the storm showed no sign of dying down any time soon much to Mycroft's chagrin. Somehow he and the girl had ended up tossing scraps of paper into a trash can that they'd sat between themselves and the fireplace; a game he'd learnt the teen was far better at than himself. The fire crackled. Their truce seemed to be going well, she'd not tried to kill him and he hadn't frozen to death yet. 

In a way the assassin reminded him of when he'd been a child before Sherlock had been born, the times when he'd just sit quietly in his room and focus on a puzzle in peace.

“I find myself wondering,” he started as he tossed another scrap of paper at the trash can and promptly missed, overshooting it into the fire. “Is there anything you like, actually like, something that defines you as an individual rather than simply a body controlled by a hive mind?” 

The teenager shot and scored. “I like you, so that's something. Otherwise, though, no, that sort of thing isn't encouraged. Preferring something leads to liking and liking leads to emotions which then sparks emotional connections that are little more than distractions and weaknesses.”

Mycroft half agreed with that. He'd long believed that caring wasn't an advantage but that still didn't stop him caring. 

“Indeed.”

“What do you like? What makes British tick?”

“Not much, I am fairly work focused though I do appreciate good Scotch, old movies and occasionally I play the piano, not too much any more though.” Sherlock had taken to the violin like a duck to water as a child when Eurus had elected to teach him, but Mycroft himself had favoured the piano. “Then surely you're  _good _ at something. You may not be encouraged to take pride in your work but I'm positive you do.” 

She shot again though this time missed so Mycroft smirked and took up his next scrap. 

“I have an aptitude for language if that's what you're getting at. Currently I speak ten.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Obviously English then there is; German, Russian, French, Latin, Swedish, Finish, Japanese, Norwegian and Danish.” 

“Ooh, really working your way around the verbal world.” He teased sarcastically.

“I could also climb on a roof a mile away and install a state of the art ventilation unit in the side of your head.”

Mycroft's eyebrow shot up, surprised by her comment. “You're conditioned to have little to no emotions, to hardly register pain and here you are making jokes. My, my, you are a naughty little assassin.”

“It was a statement not a joke.”

Mycroft took a breath. His sister's blank tone had often terrified him as a child – and as an adult – but this girl's seemed more … sad; maybe that was because he was discovering what had been done to her. 

~X~

A few days passed by and London carried on as it always had; best of British and all that. While most Londoners had slowly meandered through their lives Mycroft Holmes had been hard at work. He'd taken Artemis to his office where he'd gotten Anthea – resourceful, prepared for anything, Anthea – to find the little assassin something a bit more appropriate to wear if she was going to be his personal bodyguard. Artemis had refused to put on the suit jacket saying it was too large so a hindrance but the rest she'd easily accepted. She looked like a whole new person when Mycroft had seen her stood before him at his desk post Anthea's handy work. Her hair hung loosely around her face, the slate colored slacks and waistcoat somehow managed to exaggerate her green eyes and the powder blue blouse Anthea had found clung to Artemis like a second skin. Not that Mycroft had ogled her of course; that wouldn't have been like him at all and rather inappropriate for someone of his station. Yes, yes, that made sense. 

For a few days he'd kept Artemis close partially to make it look to Hades as though she'd integrated well into her role but mostly because he knew he was the only one who knew how to deal with Artemis. To everyone else she'd seem robotic or sarcastic or just plain rude. 

It would take quite some time to get one up on Hades, Mycroft knew that, however, there had been several bits of information they'd managed to intercepted that he suspected were linked to Hades. Even he hadn't been able to decode them with all his cryptography knowledge but with Artemis he had found a translater. That was how he'd ended up sat at his desk flicking through case files while Artemis sat on his couch hunched over the coffee table decoding. He admired her work ethic, the little assassin hadn’t spoken in the fifteen minutes since he'd given her the files and was writing quickly. 

Holmes the elder had found his office quiet and in relative peace which was nice, it all ended though when Lady Smallwood just threw open the door with force and stormed in. She moved so fast towards Mycroft's desk that she didn't even notice Artemis shoot up from her seat with the fountain pen she'd been using gripped tight. The suit clad man raised his hand in a gesture to halt. 

“It's quite alright, Artemis, dear.” Lady Smallwood looked around horrified though she hid it well. “There's no danger to my life here.” 

“Yes, Mycroft.” With that the girl went and sat herself back at the coffee table to carry on with her work. 

The elder woman turned her attention back to her colleague and took a steadying breath.

“You inform me that my life is in danger from assassins via email? And then that said assassin is now your bodyguard!”

“I informed you that there was a price on your head, yes, just as there is on mine, but you are in no actual danger, I assure you. Artemis won't kill you-” 

Lady Smallwood cut him off. “Oh really? Because it looked remarkably like she was about to drive a pen into my neck, Mycroft.” 

“No. I would have thrust it into your ear,” began Artemis without looking up. Mycroft found himself fascinated while Lady Smallwood was horrified. “the bones are more fragile there so a low-velocity object can do far more damage. Also there would be significantly less blood than if I were to stab you in the throat meaning body disposal time becomes more efficient.” 

When there was nothing but silence and Artemis felt eyes on her she glanced up at the two government officials. Her head tilted a little.

“Should I not have said that?”

Mycroft shook his head slightly. “Probably not, no.” 

“I want her incarcerated, Mycroft. I want her in MI6's secure cells and interrogated. She can't be trusted.” 

Mycroft didn't seem impressed. “Artemis does not need incarceration and she is perfectly trustworthy. There also isn't any need to interrogate her, as you can see she's already decoding intel for me.” 

“Those things are in what, thirty languages and all mixed together? Our best couldn't figure out what they said and you expect this loaded weapon to do it because you asked her to?”

Holmes the elder raised an eyebrow and gestured to Artemis. “Well clearly, yes, she already is.”

“I don't know if it's relevant to whatever this is – _argument_? - but there are actually thirty-two languages here and yes I do speak all of them.”

To anyone else she'd have sounded boastful but Mycroft knew the truth, she was simply stating a fact. Artemis didn't boast, would have meant she wanted the attention and gratification so no, Artemis didn't boast.

Lady Smallwood didn't look impressed, frankly the expression was rather incredulous. “You speak_ thirty-two_ languages?”

Artemis shook her head. “No, I speak thirty-nine. Most recently Farsi.” She glanced at Mycroft then. “These are all somewhat out of date but I'll finish.” 

With that Artemis went quiet again as though she weren't there. Mycroft smirked, he remembered when he'd first seen her she only had ten under her belt; _quite the little_ _Polyglot. _His attention left the assassin though when Lady Smallwood started up again.

“Mycroft, what if this is all an act? She needs to be detained until we can assess what she is up to not let her lounge about your office like a cat. She's not a pet.” 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at that. “I am quite aware of that, Lady Smallwood. However, I still disagree with you. Artemis is perfectly fine where she is and I know for a fact that she will not harm myself or you.” 

She folded her arms over her chest, clearly closed off and irritated. “And how can you be so sure?”

“Hades' Reapers are trained to do one thing above all else, follow orders to those they're loyal to. Artemis is not loyal to Hades, she is loyal to me. I know that because she helped me escape and when I look at her I see absolutely no signs of deception.” 

Lady Smallwood seemed confused and rightly so. “Helped you escape, what does that mean?”

“Precisely what I said. Fourteen years ago while on a mission in Finland Artemis could have killed me … but she didn't, she helped me escape the other Reapers knowing that it could be her death.”

That gave the other government official pause and she glanced across to Artemis as she flipped over a sheet of paper and then back to the man who controlled England. To her this woman was a walking time bomb but Mycroft seemed certain and Lady Smallwood had come to learn that he was _very _rarely wrong. If he trusted Artemis then it was for a very good reason; didn't mean she liked her though.

“I still want her incarcerated. You can give her whatever you like to decode but she needs to be in a cell.” 

With that Lady Smallwood vacated the room leaving the office door open behind her. Artemis rose to her feet and shut it before she gathered up the papers she'd been writing on and lay them before Mycroft. 

“I told you these were out of date, British. None of this information is useful.”

Mycroft lifted the pages with a slender hand and looked through them with a disinterested expression. 

“I know that, Artemis, of course I knew that.”

Her head tilted slightly, robotic but the only indication of what was going on inside her head. 

“I don't understand.”

“Oh come now, you're smart enough to figure it out, surely.” He leant back in his chair; ever imposing.

A pause as Artemis' eyes raked over the sheets of paper then up to Mycroft's eyes and back. 

“You were testing me.” She smirked ever so slightly and he couldn't help but recall when she'd smiled at him in the cabin years earlier. It had been forced then but now the smile seemed as though there was ever such a hint of emotion in there. “You already decoded them, didn't you? Just wanted to make sure what I wrote matched your results. What happened to you trusting me?” 

“Artemis, dear, my deduction is to trust you however, I would be stupid were I to not gather some sort of physical proof to back it up.”

She didn't seem jaded by his words. “Did I pass?”

Mycroft breathed out a laugh. “With flying colors, my dear. Do you think less of me?” He teased. 

“I told you a long time ago what I thought of you, Mycroft Holmes. Fourteen years, four months and seventeen days and none of what I think of you has changed.” 

He smiled. “At least I am consistent.”

~X~

Mycroft had to find somewhere for Artemis to live when not under his supervision, he also had started to think about arming her; she could kill well enough without a gun but as his bodyguard he should have armed her. It seemed that he didn't have to worry about any of that, two days after Lady Smallwood had burst into his office demanding Artemis' incarceration, Mycroft found himself pulled into a meeting with her and the rest of the most high ranking members of MI5 and MI6; not that there were very many. Artemis remained outside as ordered. 

“... she is a walking weapon.” Insisted Lady Smallwood. “Even if she is of no threat to you she is clearly a danger to everyone else.”

“I told you, Artemis will not harm you or anyone else unless I tell her to. She should be considered a Freelancer rather than a threat to us.” 

“That is of absolutely no comfort, I'm sorry, Mycroft, but it isn't.” Sighed Smallwood. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Good Lord, has everyone in England suddenly developed intense cases of unnecessary paranoia?” 

“Unnecessary? _Unnecessary_?” Lady Smallwood just stared at him a moment. “She tried to kill me a few days ago.”

The British Government sighed, this really was cutting into his time for other things. 

“No, Artemis attempted to protect me, bodyguards tend to do that. If she had tried to kill you, Lady Smallwood, I am quite certain you would be dead.”

“You're doing nothing to ease our concerns, Mister Holmes.” Said Sir Edwin.

“I agree.” Frankly Mycroft felt as though he were being ganged up on. “Mycroft, all we know about this girl is a codename and that she is an emotionless live grenade.” 

“I believe an _emotionless _grenade is far less danger than an _emotional _one, less prone to outbursts and fits. Also, Artemis is not a codename it _is_ her name. If you wish a codename then I suggest _132601\. _If we lock her up then Hades will sense something is wrong and send a replacement, one that will not provide us warning.” 

“That is a risk we must be willing to take.” 

Had Mycroft not had better control of his facial muscles he'd have stared open mouthed at Lady Smallwood; it was by far this least intelligent thing she'd ever said. 

Sir Edwin stared off blankly for a moment and then back to Holmes the elder.

“I appreciate your view, Mister Holmes, I really do and were this literally _any _other assassin I would be inclined to believe you, but she is Hades. Every high level criminal we've ever pulled in here is in some way afraid of Hades and its Reapers. Then there is the Prime Minister's worry that she is a threat to National Security, a worry I – and clearly Lady Smallwood – share.” He sighed. “I'm sorry, Mister Holmes, but you have been out voted. The girl will be placed in MI6's custody where she will be secure until we can be fully assured that she is now our operative.”

“And if you're never fully assured?”

“Then she will remain in a cell until she is no longer of use to this country.” 

“Hmm. And since when have we answered to the Prime Minister? We have priority ultra clearance.”

“Doesn't change the fact you are out voted.”

Mycroft felt his eye twitch as Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin packed away their things. He didn't like having his hand forced but he was faced with no choice. He'd still be able to give her tasks to carry out but he'd not have easy access to her. With her locked up Mycroft wouldn't have nearly as much help taking down Hades either. 

As he left the room he found Artemis stood tall in the hallway looking as though she belonged; she really was a chameleon. Seemed she noticed his irritation because she placed her hand lightly on his forearm which drew his attention, there was still feelings inside her.

“What's wrong, British?”

“I'm sorry.” He told her honestly. “You are to be lock up within MI6.” 

Artemis' brow furrowed in confusion as Lady Smallwood entered the hallway followed by two members of security.

“Arrest her.”

One of the men grabbed Artemis from behind by the arm and shoulder, a mistake, from muscle memory alone she yanked the man to her and threw him over her onto the floor. Lady Smallwood jumped while Mycroft just stepped out the way of the sprawled man. 

“This is what I'm talking about, Mycroft!” 

“Would not any woman retaliate against a man who grabbed her from behind against her will?”

“That's not what this is and you know it.”

He sighed, eyes closed a moment before he looked up at Artemis who appeared to be focused on his reactions more than anything else. 

“Artemis, I need you to follow me.” She nodded. “You'll be spending the foreseeable future in a cell.”

When he made to walk off in the direction of MI6's cells he half expected her to refuse but no, she loyally followed him with the conscious security man trailing behind her. She nor the suit clad man spoke as he led her deep down under the building. Why couldn't people just see that what he said was the right thing to do? He was more intelligent than them all after all. 

Several security gates later and Mycroft stood outside a fairly sized cell with padded walls and cameras covering every inch of it; security bordered on Sherringford level. The security guard opened the cell then stepped aside. 

Artemis peered in, it was empty save for an excuse for a bed and a toilet, though that didn't look to bother the assassin.

“If you wouldn't mind, Artemis.”

“Why do I have to go in there?”

_Why indeed._ “Because people are scared of you.” 

Quietly she stepped inside the cell into the middle where she glanced around with an unreadable expression.

“I will get you out of here. We have hell to overthrow after all.”

The cell door slammed shut and Mycroft stood there a moment before he stomped off to his office in a huff. 

His office was where he stayed for many hours. Anthea brought him coffee when he decided tea wasn't strong enough and he actually hurt his fingers from drumming them so long against the desk as he thought. Why did people always have to make things so difficult? Just the fact that Artemis had entered the cells without protest told him she wasn't a threat. Mycroft undoubtedly knew Artemis better than anyone else ever had, and yet Edwin and Elizabeth hadn't listened to a word he'd said. 

Many more hours went by with Mycroft locked away in his office –  _maybe a poor choice of words_ – as he put together a plan for slowly dismantling Hades; but he needed Artemis in order to do it. He only left his thoughts when a knock sounded and Lady Smallwood slipped her head around the door only to smile almost fondly at him as she entered the room fully. 

“I'm sorry if you think Edwin and I forced your hand but we need to be safe above all else.”

“Forgive me if I don't agree with this being what keeps us safe.” He responded a little more violently than he'd intended.

“Would you like to join me for a drink, Mycroft?” He raised an eyebrow. “The day is over.” 

She'd given him her number before and he'd not known what to make of it. He'd taken the number home with him and stared at it for a very long time trying to figure out if she had some sort of attraction to him or if Sherlock was right and Mycroft was actually lonely so had read too much into it, maybe it was a combination of the two. In the end it hadn't mattered, he'd tossed the number away in his notebook for in case of emergency and never said more on the matter. 

“No, I shan’t. I apologize but I will be here quite late, I'm handling an issue for the CIA.”

Either his renowned skills of deduction had failed him or Elizabeth Smallwood actually seemed a little rejected by that.

“Well, you have my number if you change your mind, Mycroft.” 

He wouldn't.


	6. Sentimentality Is The Respect The Cold-Hearted Pay To Feeling

Sherlock couldn't take it! He was going insane trying to figure out his new case which had led to him running back and forth through the Yard while John and Lestrade watched on with furrowed brows. They'd seen Sherlock like this many times before so neither man was overly concerned about it, they would just let him get it out of his system then listen to his overly dramatic explanation of what happened. In a way the younger Holmes was just a toy that they would wind up and watch it go. Donovan didn't seem happy but she never really was. 

Lestrade folded his arms over his chest and leant back against his office door.

“You heard anything about Myc and that Artemis girl?” 

John was surprised. “Shouldn't you know more than me or Sherlock? You know, you're Mycroft's best friend.” 

Wasn't that an odd sentence. Even Sherlock hadn't been able to figure out how Mycroft had befriended Lestrade of all people. It was just one of those things that had just sort of happened like Sherlock's tea appearing in the morning or how the fridge magically restocked itself. 

Lestrade chuckled. “We're not that sort of friends. It's not like we chat about work or National Security. No, we mainly talk about Sherlock and how much he irritates the pair of us, it's more like a support meeting really.” He shrugged. “There was this one time he took me to the Grand National, had to wear a fancy suit and everything.”

“Shut up!” Screamed Sherlock as he continued to pace and grumble to himself; or maybe it was someone in his mind palace. “You're putting me off even more than Anderson does.”

“Did.” Corrected Lestrade. “Anderson doesn't work for us anymore, remember?”

“When did this happen? Should have told me, I could have celebrated.”

John rolled his eyes. “You deleted it, didn't you? Sherlock, darling, Anderson hasn't worked for Scotland Yard since you faked your death and he went mad with guilt.”

“Oh.”

Oh, that was all he said. The only syllable he expressed before turning back to the task at hand. Years ago it would have bothered John but now he just let it wash over him. He knew what Sherlock Holmes was like and he loved him anyway.

“John?” He looked up at the Detective Inspector. “Let's go into my office, we won't bother him and we can sit down.”

The former soldier followed Lestrade into his office with a glance back over his shoulder to the man he loved.

“You know, Greg, I may have to join you and Mycroft to complain about him.” 

“Well, you are the one dating Sherlock, brought it on yourself.” Greg teased.

“Yeah, everyone already thought we were a couple so we decided to try and here we are. He's good with Rosie and that's the most important thing. I'm not gay, I just happen to have fallen in love with a man.” 

Lestrade fell into his chair and raised his hands non-threateningly. “Hey, I don't judge. I am feeling a little deflated though, I mean, _both_ Holmes brothers have someone and I'm just sat here like I'm out to pasture.”

John sat himself down in the chair opposite Greg. “Both?”

“Yes. Sherlock has you and now Myc has Artemis or whatever her name really is.” 

Doctor Watson actually seemed surprised by that comment. It hadn't occurred to him that Mycroft was anything but asexual to be honest; not that he'd really thought about it until that very moment. 

“You think they're together? He didn't even recognise her to begin with.”

The Detective Inspector breathed out a laugh. “Please, she's a highly trained killer who apparently doesn't have any feelings and yet she flat-out refused to kill him. Turned thirty million down because of it. Of course she's in love with him. I might not be as smart as Myc or hero coat out there but I know love is a pesky emotion that's hard to squash.” 

“But it's Mycroft. He's, you know … Mycroft.” 

“It may surprise you to know this, John, but Myc isn't actually as much of a dick as Sherlock makes him out to be. He's actually rather pleasant once you get to know him. He might be the most powerful man in Britain but he's also the most stressed.” 

John chuckled. “You telling me to be nicer to Mycroft?” 

“Couldn't hurt.”

Sherlock shoved the door open then claiming he'd solved the case, that it was obvious and that everyone but him was an idiot; the standard.

~X~

The Holmes that actually possessed some manners had finally managed to get away from being on load to the CIA and into a meeting with Lady Smallwood. His only want was for Artemis out of that cell so she could start supplying him with information and the pair could plot their next moves. However, in order to get her out he had to have either Edwin's or Smallwood's approval and frankly Mycroft believed he had a better chance with Edwin but he'd play both fields. 

He spent a long time listing the reasons for wanting her freed. Made it clear to Elizabeth Smallwood that the longer she insisted on Artemis being incarcerated the less chance of Hades being shut down. If the little assassin stayed in there then she was a wasted assets but nothing he said seemed to get through to her, she was too focused on Artemis being a liability and nothing more than a walking WMD. 

“I am the most qualified man to tell you what Artemis is and isn't. Yes, she is dangerous, yes she could kill us all if it pleased her but the fact of the matter is that she has been trained to obey orders rather than do what she wants – to not even have wants.” 

“Then she's unpredictable. I agree that we should be interrogating her but so that we're sure she's telling us the truth.” 

Mycroft raised a ginger eyebrow. “Are you suggesting torturing it out of her? She was already telling us the truth and more importantly torture won't work on Artemis. Hades has been torturing her since before she entered double digits. I shot her myself, _twice, _and she didn't flinch. You have no hope of torturing anything out of her and I really don't recommend that you try.”

“I'd be careful, Mycroft, you're starting to sound as though you care about her.” 

The suit clad man's brow furrowed deeply. The idea was laughable, surely.

“Of course not. I just think we are cutting ourselves off from a very useful chess piece. She's the queen, Lady Smallwood, the queen who can move anywhere she likes on the board and is almost impossible to catch.”

“And yet we have her in a cell.” Said Lady Smallwood thinking she was being clever.

“No.” He shook his head slightly. “No we don't. She went willingly.”

He left then, knew he wouldn't get anywhere with Lady Smallwood. He'd been right to begin with, Sir Edwin would be the easiest target to over turn this all.

Mycroft marched down into the cells after a stop off in his office for something and ignored the odd looks the guards gave him, he wasn't the sort of man that made trips to the cells often. He only had to glare at them to convince them to open up the door to her cell; not standard procedure but everyone feared being on the wrong side of Mycroft Holmes. 

The door swung open to reveal Artemis sat cross-legged in the middle of the room with her hands limp and her eyes closed. 

“She's been like this since you had her locked in, Sir.” The blonde guard told him. “Three days and she hasn't spoken, eaten or slept. She just sits there like she's dead.”

“Hmm, it's a sniper technique. She can remain fully awake and alert for days without rest or food. Artemis has heard every word we've said.” Mycroft went silent but the guard didn't move. “Go away.” 

The ginger man made his way into the cell, popped open his blazer button and crouched down beside the dark-haired beauty.

“Hello, little assassin.” He greeted calmly.

“I asked you a long time ago to stop calling me that.” Her green orbs snapped open. “What time is it?”

He took his pocket watch free a moment to spy the time. “It is two-thirty-nine.” Mycroft tucked it away. His knees weren't designed for crouching but he carried on. “Unfortunately I have not convinced Lady Smallwood to change her mind in regards to your captivity. I will endeavour to work on Sir Edwin tomorrow. For now you have to stay here.”

Artemis didn't seem too bothered, Mycroft suspected being in this cell was a walk in the park compared to her isolation training as a child.

He rested something in her lap then that had hung heavily from his hands since he'd slipped into his office to get it. When Artemis looked down she found it to be a copy of Red Dragon.

“You told me you didn't know who Hannibal was and since you've been good and not killed anyone or tried to escape I think you deserve a present.”

Artemis looked up at him with something in her eyes he'd never seen before. It amazed him that when he looked at her he managed to see bits of feelings and emotions but everyone else just saw a blank void.

“Thank you, Mycroft. I've never had a gift before.”

“Well, pretty girls get nice things and all that.” He cleared his throat before she read too much into that sentence. “I will get you out of here, Artemis, we have work to do.”

He finally stood back up to his full height then and was truly grateful for it; his knees weren't too pleased with him. Mycroft closed his button once again – ever the gentleman – as Artemis looked up at him with those big eyes of hers. Sat there cross-legged and small she reminded him of a child and in a way she still was, she'd never been allowed to grow a personality of her own. The scarf that had once been his was tied around her wrist and it confused him. Artemis was sentimental when it came to him and that could have been because of any number of things that had happened in that cabin; several of which he'd never entered into his report. 

After a moment of quiet Mycroft took out his pocket watch again and unhooked the golden watch from the chain and handed it down to her. 

“Dreadful pain not knowing the time, Artemis.”

She looked it over a moment then set it neatly atop the book. “You know I could kill a man with this, right?”

He smirked at that. “You underestimate my intellect. I am by far smart enough to know you're capable of killing someone with that. However, I am also smart enough to know you won't.”

She clicked the watch open. “Mycroft R. A. Holmes. What do the middle initials stand for?”

“My parents have always favoured odd names and unfortunately for me, Sherlock got the best of them, I was not so lucky. The A is for Amyas.”

“So what does it stand for? Rudolph? Ragnar? Rasmus?” 

“It stands for something you, nor anyone else, shall ever know.”

He made to leave then but Artemis verbally forced him to a halt.

“Can I have one of your cigarettes, please? I'm supposed to say please, right?”

“If one wishes to be polite, yes.” He turned back to her and tugged the pack and lighter from his waistcoat. “I didn't think you smoked. You haven't displayed any signs.” 

She shook her head as she accepted the cigarette and let him light it for her.

“I don't unless I need to stand in public without looking suspicious but, I seem to be scumming to boredom.” A trait that was remarkably unusual for a Reaper. “Thank you for making me bored.” 

A ginger eyebrow shot upwards; he was ever so slightly taken aback. “How can that _possibly_ be a good thing? Boredom is the destruction of the mind, it's probably why my brother is so slow.”

Artemis shrugged. “My mind is a constant stream of information. I calculated twelve ways of killing you just as you walked in the door – good job you didn't bring the umbrella or there would have been a few more – I didn't intend to I just did it. My mind is on constant auto-pilot, an auto-pilot run by Hades. But you, you interrupt that and let me be something else.”

Mycroft's eyebrow only raised higher. “I let you be bored?” 

“I don't know how to be something else yet so boredom is the most I get.” 

He paused a moment. This was why she'd held onto the scarf all these years, why she'd warned him and refused to assassinate him. She believed he had made her a person, that he'd made her Artemis; the thing he couldn't get away from was that she was right, he had. 

“Then I suggest you read that,” he gestured to her gift “If you want a personality of your own books are an excellent place to begin.”

Then he was gone back off to running England from the shadows while Artemis watched the door close and lock. He might have lived in the shadows but her world was still too dark for him.


	7. When The Storm Ends So Does The Truce

Three more days crawled by before Mycroft had finally had enough of the completely unnecessary and idiotic imprisonment of Artemis. He'd quit playing nice and put the fear of God into Sir Edwin in the space of a ten second period and even fewer words; he should have done it earlier to be honest but Mycroft had tried to continue some sort of polite courtesy. Of course with Sir Edwin thoroughly terrified Mycroft had gained majority rule for releasing Artemis and within a half hour he'd yanked her out of that godforsaken cell and had her cleaned up again. Following that he'd made sure that Anthea had Artemis listed as his personal bodyguard, he needed her close to him not only for it to look real to Hades but so as his colleagues didn't get ideas about throwing her back in that pit. 

Once he'd made everything official – or at least as official as a man of his clandestine nature could - Mycroft had taken her shopping. Well, that was a bit of a stretch, he'd actually taken her to his tailor who was used to the occasional female client. Mycroft was sick of Artemis looking like a vagabond. If Artemis was to follow him around on a semi-permanent basis then he'd make sure she damn well look the part. A few blouses and a couple of pairs of slacks and Artemis looked like the perfect bodyguard, imposing and yet somehow invisible at the same time; perfect. 

With the return of Artemis to his side rather than the cell, Mycroft found himself once again thinking of the accommodation issue he'd had. Of course, the auburn-red haired man could have dumped Artemis at a safe house sure but she needed to be easily accessible to him; needed her to be within arms reach. That conundrum was what had Mycroft sat at his desk with his fingers folded under his mouth in an all too familiar prayer position. Artemis sat before him in one of the uncomfortable chairs – not that it bothered her – watching him as though trying to figure out which facial expressions meant what. 

“Why can't I just live with you?” That made his eyes snap up. “I'm your bodyguard right? I need to be close like you say but away from your …  _friends._ So why don't I just live with you? It's not like there is a flat across from you. And, Hades isn't watching us every moment of every day, that's not how we – they – do things.” 

It wasn't a good idea, that was Mycroft's first and loudest thought. He couldn't keep her around like a pet but, at the same time it made the most sense. He was the only one who understood Artemis and he was running the project to shut down Hades once and for all. She was his key to it all so yes, this made sense. 

“Very well. I suppose we have shared close quarters before.”

His house was certainly big enough for two and it would solve a lot of minor problems for him. Also, if Hades did decide to just try and end Mycroft then he had a Rottweiler at the foot of his bed. Artemis flashed him a smile; they'd started to become more common from the assassin. 

“At least there won't be as much snow this time.” 

That actually made him breathe out a laugh. He'd not been able to stand snow – or Finland – since that ruddy blizzard. Mycroft could tolerate looking at it but actually being out in the white powder he couldn't stand any more; he'd breathed in so much of it while running. 

“When do you have to meet with Hades?” He asked to change the subject.

“I don't.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? All agents check in whether they're freelance, or service operatives. They _all _check in.”

Artemis shrugged. “Reapers don't. Unless we're on a clock. Our whole organisation is built on the idea that we are given a task and we carry it out. Once it's done we come back.” 

“That makes absolutely no sense. How do they know what you're doing? How far you've gotten?” Mycroft couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You never meet a handler?” 

“No. Never a meeting. We do check in, yes, in a way I suppose, but there is never a meeting.”

Okay, that made slightly more sense. “How do you check in then?”

“News paper obituaries. We have different coded obituaries for different things. To answer your original question though I already have.”

“When?”

“When you took me to that tailor. You were being fitted for a new waistcoat so I had plenty of time.” 

“That took maybe five minutes, he just wanted to re-measure my waist.” Artemis shrugged once again. “Alright, what did you tell them?” 

“That you and yours had accepted our planned sequence of events, had no idea Hades is involved and that I'm no working on getting Project Tesla.” 

Mycroft leant back in his chair. “All lies then.” 

“Of course.”

~X~

Mycroft got back on with his life and work in the following weeks. He solved problems and kept England – as well as a few other countries – running while Artemis followed him about as though she were on a leash. 

She'd made quick work of plotting all the Hades bases known to her – which were far fewer than he'd hoped – on a large map in his office, and had versed him in deciphering the obituary correspondences she'd told him of. The reason no one had been able to decode Hades secrets was because they needed to be changed into several different languages before it could be deciphered into another language and decoded fully. Clever, paranoid and had taken Mycroft over a year to figure out. A year of work but it had meant that Mycroft Holmes was the only person outside of Hades who could read what their messages said. He'd given Sherlock a dumbed down version of it once and he'd not had a single idea of what it read; he'd sent Mycroft away with a growl and a string of insulting arrogance. 

Eventually though he was forced to make his way to Baker Street to bring his little brother in on a small issue. As always Sherlock wasn't pleased to see him or Artemis as they stood by the fireplace at 221B. 

“... why do I have to do it? As you like to keep reminding me _you're the smart one_.” Sherlock fell down into his chair, his dressing gown fluttered around his lean form. 

“I cannot be seen to solve this. Yes I have already determined what happened and why in my mind but it needs someone to do it publicly that isn't occupying a minor position in the British Government.” 

Sherlock snorted. “You run everything, Mycroft.” His elder brother just rolled his eyes and fiddled with his umbrella. “John, how long does it take to make tea?” 

Mycroft and Artemis flashed a look. John wasn't in the kitchen. 

“He went upstairs ten minutes ago.” Artemis informed. “Your tea is next to you.”

Sherlock cast his blue orbs to the cup of steaming tea beside him and raised an eyebrow as if to accuse the cup of magically appearing.

“Yes, brother mine, it's been there a while and you – once again – didn't notice.”

“Shut up, Mycroft.” 

“Will you take the case, dear brother?” The suit clad man asked in a tone that wouldn't take a rejection; still Sherlock rejected.

“No! I'm not your performing monkey, Mycroft. I don't just hop to it when you tell me!” He shot to his feet and over to the window. “You can't just show up whenever you want me to dance and shove me onto the stage! This is you all over,  _brother dear, _ popping up when your shadows and secrets aren't good enough! Have your pet assassin do it. And why is she dressed like someone died?”

"Just wait." Replied Artemis blankly.

Mycroft sighed, seemed Sherlock was in one of his childish days and wanted to throw a fit. He blamed their parents, they'd always indulged Sherlock's nonsense when they'd been children and now this was what Mycroft had to deal with on a constant basis. How John hadn't killed him Mycroft wouldn't ever know. 

Speaking of John. The man himself marched down the stairs from the upper bedroom that they'd been using as a play room for Rosie; his expression as clearly irritated.

“Sherlock, could you shut it maybe? All I can hear is you and you're upsetting Rosie.” He gestured to the small child in his arms.

John's words didn't even make a dent though, Sherlock was off on one and Mycroft suspected it was down to him trying to quit smoking again. 

Without warning John shoved Rosie into Mycroft's arms forcing him to drop his umbrella and Rosie her small bunny and went to his lover's side. 

“Sherlock, darling, you can't just throw a tantrum every time Mycroft shows up. I don't like his face either but you're an adult so _grow up_. What sort of example are you setting for her, huh? You're her Godfather for God's sake and you're teaching her it's okay to have a tantrum every time someone you don't like shows up.”

Sherlock paused in his grumbling and looked from John to Mycroft then back. “You really must be angry, John. You gave Rosie to _Mycroft_.”

John spun around suddenly just in time to see Mycroft bouncing little Rosie on his hip. John just stood there with wide eyes, both men were obviously surprised to see Rosie actually giggling while in Mycroft's care. 

The little girl reached down towards the ground in a pointless attempt to grab her bunny so Artemis retrieved it for her instead. Rosie grinned when the assassin handed the pink rabbit over. Mycroft noticed his brother and John then as John's mouth fell open to continue his display of surprise. 

“Honestly, I have two much younger siblings, do you really think I've never comforted a baby before?” 

“You _never _did that to me.” Sherlock insisted quickly as John took Rosie back. “Besides you said you weren't good with babies.”

Mycroft bent to pick up his umbrella. “I said I wasn't good with humans, brother mine. Babies aren't exactly human, not yet anyway.” He smirked to himself. “And yes, dear brother, I did do that to both of you and you loved it. I remember once Mummy and Father had to rush Eurus to the hospital because of a fever which left you alone with me. You were only two at the time, hadn't become an ever present thorn in my side just yet. I read you pirate stories and taught you the periodic table.” 

“No, never happened. Thank you for your fiction, Mycroft, but I don't think we need it.” Said Sherlock quickly and dismissively. 

John muttered to himself. “They left two kids alone for who knows how long. Yep, explains a lot about you two.”

“Will you take the case, Sherlock? Lives are at stake.”

Doctor Watson could see Sherlock getting ready to complain about literally everything that had happened between himself and Mycroft since birth so jumped in and answered for him. 

“Yes, he will. I'll make sure he does.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” He looked over to Sherlock. “I'll expect results in a day or so. Didn't take me long to crack it so at your slower rate it shouldn't take longer than three days. Good day.”

Mycroft left his brother and Sherlock's lover to the case and the child and headed down to his car with Artemis hot on his heels. He did have other things to attend to at the Diogenes Club. Once the vehicle was movie Artemis broke the comfortable quietude.

“What is it like having parents?” She enquires softly. 

Mycroft honestly didn't know how to answer her question.  To him his parents were well meaning but slow and irritating however, when he thought about having never had them he wondered who and what he'd have become without them.

“I'm not sure how to explain that to you, Artemis. They're the people who made me who I am so I suppose the good outweighs the bad in the end.”

He knew that wasn't a satisfactory answer but it was the best he had for her. She didn't complain, she'd never complained, and the pair sat quietly as the driver took them to the Diogenes Club.

~X~

Mycroft stared out of the cabin's tiny, half frosted over window. He could hardly see a thing through the heavy iced up glass. The wind still howled and frantically Mycroft would have killed to be back in London at the  Diogenes Club with a glass of well aged brandy, instead he was stuck in Finland with a teenage murderer. 

“I think that the blizzard is starting to ease off.” He said almost absent-mindedly. “It's several hours off but it has started at least.”

He went back to sit on the floor beside her knowing that he'd almost undoubtedly die as soon as the blizzard passed. If she didn't kill him then one of the Reapers that came out searching would. He'd never been a strong man physically, he couldn't fight them off. Mycroft would die if he could talk his way out of this.

“How does your leg feel?” The elder Holmes asked and he found he actually cared.

“I know that it hurts but it doesn't bother me.”

Carefully she pushed down the bloodied fabric revealing her legs to Mycroft. He locked onto the wound instantly and reached over to check her stitches; she'd live. 

“So you can feel.”

“You can't just make someone stop feeling physical pain, British, not without a medical condition. I always know about the pain, I always know it's there. Hades just trains us not to be bothered by it and eventually it fades into the background where we can't hear it. Trained long enough and that happens to our emotions as well.” 

“I don't know if that's incredibly useful or incredibly cruel.”

Hades weren't the mercenaries and assassin's they'd thought, they were monsters. It was children they were doing this to.

“Probably both.”

The teenager reached for the gun he'd left on the coffee table and instantly his eyes were wide. His heart rate spiked and Mycroft began to panic, at least he did until she started to take the weapon apart. 

“What are you doing?” He asked while he tried to connect the dots for himself.

“I need to stay quick.”

Slowly Mycroft's heartbeat eased and he started to breathe at a normal rate once again. The truce hadn't ended just yet. 


	8. I'm Not Lonley

The hour was late when Greg glanced down at his watch. He'd been at Mycroft's home for several hours and not even noticed the time sail by. It happened occasionally, Lestrade would be invited over to dine with the British Government and then the pair would end up watching something, usually it would be one of Mycroft's old films or, every now and again, Greg would convince him to watch the football; this was a night where they did the former. Since their strange friendship had bloomed the Detective Inspector had gained an appreciation for classic cinema, there was soul in the films and they were often more focused on plot than fast paced action add in some good suits and Greg understood fully why they appealed to Holmes the elder. 

“Next time we'll have to watch The Italian Job, I haven't seen that in years.”

Mycroft cast his blue orbs from the screen to Lestrade. “I may allow it.” 

The first time Mycroft had joked with him Greg had assumed the man was drunk. Holmes weren't known for their humour or frivolity, quite frankly they were known for being assholes. However, Lestrade had come to know that Mycroft was a good person underneath everything. 

He couldn't help but tease back. “I feel honoured.”

“And so you should.”

A bang sounded then, somewhat faint but clear. Lestrade had been hearing it on and off for the last hour or so though hadn't paid much attention to it since the noise hadn't appeared to bother Mycroft. Greg had assumed it must have been a boiler or something echoing but eventually he just had to ask. 

“Myc, what on earth is that noise? It's been going on ages.”

Mycroft took a sip of his brandy. “I apologise for the noise. The room directly underneath us had been used for storage, now though it is Artemis' training room. She needed space when she moved in.” Another sip of rich amber liquid. 

Greg's eyebrow shot up in surprise. “That girl _lives _here now?”

Mycroft felt a need to point out the obvious. “Well, she is my personal bodyguard which means she needs to be around to guard my body on a constant basis, so yes, she lives here now. Also, it's that or an MI6 cell.” 

Greg had only met the girl once but he thought cells might have been a bit harsh, if she'd turned on her people and gone to Mycroft then clearly she would make a better asset than a prisoner; obviously Holmes the elder saw that as well. 

“My colleagues would rather just keep her locked up than allow me to use her.” He sighed.

“What is it you're planning to do?” Greg asked eagerly.

Mycroft just smiled at him in that way that said 'you don't need to know that, Inspector'. 

Suddenly a far louder bang sounded, much harsher, and Greg jumped to his feet in alarm.

“Is she okay?”

“Most likely.”

The auburn-red haired man really didn't seem all that concerned, however, when several minutes went by without a single noise and Artemis didn't seem to come upstairs the pair decided to go check on her. Just because she was a highly trained killer didn't mean she was incapable of accidentally hurting herself.

The British Government and the Detective Inspector made their way down through Mycroft's house and into the room Artemis had been using as her training room. It was nestled amongst a few smaller rooms that appeared to be storage for bits of random furniture and Greg thought he even spotted an old wooden crib as they passed one room. 

In the training room brown eyes found a load of sports stuff like a bench press and a skipping rope on a table beside the door, but what really had Greg's attention was the wall of weapons all neatly lay out for perusal and a sort of mini gun range. Mycroft stifled a yawn clearly unconcerned but Greg's eyes were wide. 

“Myc, mate, you can't have all this down here.” He moved closer to get a better look. “I mean seriously, you've got a bloody Uzi, Glocks, an M4 Carbine, a Baikal MP-153, I don't even know what that one's called and … is that a fucking FAL?! Myc, no.”

“Gregory, I remind you who I am and what I do for a living. I am beyond the police's periphery and laws so yes, I can.”

Lestrade sighed, he knew he'd not win if he made this an argument. “Yeah, yeah, you're the British Government.” 

Artemis' eyes snapped open then and the movement actually drew both Mycroft's and Greg's attention. She sat cross-legged on the floor within a white rubber square almost as if she'd been meditating. 

“You okay, Artemis?” Asked Greg softly.

She nodded. “I am fine, yes. It's a Rheinmetal MG 3.” Greg raised an eyebrow so she pointed to the machine gun he'd not been able to name. “We just call it an MG 3 though. It's German, very useful.”

“What was the loud bang we heard?”

Artemis just pointed over to the range where the silver haired policeman saw a shotgun laying on the bench and all became clear. She seemed to struggle to assess the situation, couldn't seem to figure out if they were annoyed or not. 

“Was I making too much noise?”

“No.” Mycroft answered quickly. “I'll have the place soundproofed soon enough. We were just checking on you.” 

Again the assassin seemed somewhat confused but let Holmes the elder help her up with an offered hand even though they both knew she didn't need it. Meanwhile Greg had found himself curious and made his way to the range area. He wondered silently to himself how big Myc's house really was.  _ Ooh, maybe there are secret tunnels that spider off everywhere, like the underground but without trains. The Mycerground!  _ He looked at the paper targets she'd been shooting at. Greg was amazed, he'd always been a pretty good shot himself but this girl was on a whole other level. She probably could have signed her name if so inclined. 

“You're an excellent shot.” He told her as he turned to face Artemis and Mycroft. 

Brown eyes locked on her legs, she wore a white tank top and a pair of shorts but they revealed the scratches, scars and burns that littered her skin. From what he could tell though, most of them seemed to be in odd places. Mycroft had told them all at Baker Street that Hades had tortured Artemis, that had to be where the scars had come from.  _How could someone do that to a child? Someone did that to my little girl and I'd kill 'em._

When Myc spotted Greg raking his eyes up and down Artemis he wasn't stupid enough to think the policeman was ogling her, no, he knew that look of horror hidden away. Still, he decided to tease the shorter man. 

“Care to try your luck in the ring with Artemis, Gregory?”

Greg breathed out a laugh as he snapped back to the world around him.

“Yeah, no, I'll pass. I'd like to stay alive, thanks.”

Artemis' head tilted ever so slightly. “I promise not to kill or injure you.”

It was the stupid teasing expression on the elder Holmes' face that made Greg feel competitive so – somewhat idiotically – he accepted. He'd get his ass handed to him, of that Lestrade was certain. He took off his watch and gave it to Mycroft along with his phone and keys who set them on the range bench then stepped into the rubber floor square. When Artemis rolled her shoulders Greg realised just how moronic he'd been, okay so maybe she'd not kill him but Greg knew he'd be very embarrassed by the end of it. 

Not knowing if there was to be a count down or if it was just a sort of go when-you're-ready-type deal, Greg just threw a punch. Instantly the dark-haired woman blocked it and somehow managed to get her palm on his left biceps, the next thing he knew he'd been pushed, pulled and then Lestrade was on the floor staring up at the ceiling and bright lights. Artemis offered a hand to help him up which he took. 

“How the _hell _do you do that?” Asked Greg half-amazed.

She was astounding in a slightly terrifying kind of way. Artemis shrugged, to her what she'd done was simple, uninteresting and not worthy of praise.

“It's rather easy once you know how. If you like I could teach you.”

“Yeah, alright, go on then.” Greg smiled while Mycroft watched on. 

Artemis taught the silver-haired Inspector and Myc was actually pleased by it. Artemis had told him she'd wanted a personality of her own, something separate from Hades, and this simple act of teaching Greg to floor an opponent was the first indication that she'd started to develop her own personality. Maybe when Hades was destroyed – not that it would be any time soon – he'd get her to train their spies;  _couldn't hurt. _

By the end of the night Lestrade was covered in bruises of varying intensity but he didn't care, he knew how to take someone down quickly and skilfully for the first time in his life. Then there was the fact he'd had a lot more fun than he'd anticipated. It had certainly been more fun than watching one of Mycroft's old movies; not that he'd be telling the taller man that any time soon … or indeed ever. 

With the moon high up in the sky shining silver and free of clouds Mycroft found himself realising just how late the hour was; he didn't want Lestrade to head home alone and coated in a thin layer of bruises, wasn't healthy. Artemis had kicked the crap out of him so Mycroft thought it best to call him a car. He pulled his phone out his pocket and pressed it to his ear as he left the room leaving Greg and the assassin alone in the basement room. 

DI Lestrade slipped his coat and made to follow The British Government but stopped dead when he saw Artemis quietly tidying things away and taking down the paper targets. When he'd first seen Artemis she'd been a pile of black hair and crimson blood slowly dying on Sherlock's couch at Baker Street, now though, all he saw was a tortured girl. He could see the scars that littered her body, most were faded by time while others were larger and covered in thick scar tissue. Lestrade might not have been as smart as Mycroft and his younger brother, but he was smart enough to see that most of those wounds were done to her by the same hand. He remembered the story, what Mycroft had said about her telling him torture had been her morning routine. He'd thought about that on and off since they'd gone down into the basement and every time it shocked him; Greg just couldn't fathom why anyone would do that to a child. 

All Greg's inner thoughts made him divert from heading after Holmes the elder and instead to help Artemis clean up. There wasn't much to do but still he wanted to help, wanted to show her some kindness even if it was minuscule. Hardly a full minute had passed before he started to find the quiet awkward, not heavy exactly and he doubted Artemis even noticed him tense, but awkward it remained; Greg had to fill the quietude.

“Artemis?” She glanced over at him from her place at the weapon racks. “What really happened in that cabin? Why didn't you kill Myc?” 

Silence. Artemis just watched him a time. Lestrade was certain she'd be able to stand still as a statue for days if needed, but then she set down the shotgun on the rack and stared off passed Greg as memories came back to her. 

“Alright. I'll tell you.”


	9. Her Emotional Range Might Surprise You

The nameless assassin didn't know how long she'd been sat on the floor but she estimated it to be at least fourteen hours. The British man had been right, the blizzard had started to ease and soon her fellow Reapers would be out in search of him. Green eyes watched her so-called captor as he cleaned things up and quietly fidgeted, he didn't seem like the sort of man who could sit still very long, mind always working away on something; workaholic. He'd be dead soon, she knew than and clearly so did he, most probably wouldn't have noticed his fear – he hid it well – but she'd seen people die for as long as she could remember and knew the darkness well.

When he sat back down beside her to stare at the fire she kept her eyes on him. All the men she knew were strong built and imposing but this man was lean and slim; _I could probably snap him like a twig. _Despite his weak appearance he still managed to be an imposing person and that was new to her. They were polar opposites. 

Silence hung between them for several minutes like an oppressive cloud threatening rain but it didn't bother the teenager, she'd gone weeks without talking at times. In truth she doubted quiet bothered the man beside her often but the situation drove him to talk.

“If I am to die shortly will you answer a dying man's final questions? It is only polite and it's my last request.” The lack of fear in his voice was nearly convincing. 

_A man who doesn't want to die and won't beg. _She nodded; like the auburn-red haired man had said, he'd be dead soon so there really wasn't any issue with answering a few questions.

“Very well, British.”

“Thank you.” He nodded and then went quiet for a few seconds as he thought of which order he wanted to ask his questions in. “You've been pressured to numb your emotions but you said you liked me. I know you already answered but there is more to it. Why do you _really _like me? I know there's something emotive driving it.”

“... You're not a killer.”

The elder man's brow furrowed. “I don't understand. _Not a killer_?”

“I've never met someone who isn't one before. You're not like the people I'm usually around and you're not like the men I've killed. You're different from everyone I've ever known.”

“And what am I then?” He asked genuinely curious.

“You're someone whose not a killer. You're many things but you aren't a murderer, you're … _good_.” The word was foreign to her. “And I've never met someone who is _good _before.”

He just stared at her blankly a time and she didn't know what he was thinking. All the girl knew was that there was a little ball of _something _deep within her chest, like a bullet when it twisted and ripped into the goo-y stuff behind; in fact for a second she did actually wonder if she'd been shot again.

“Artemis.” He said finally. Such a strange comment that she looked up at him with bold green eyes.

“Artemis?”

The tall man nodded; face half lit by the dying fire. 

“Yes, Artemis. She is part of the Greek Pantheon and Goddess of The Hunt amongst other things. She has other names but Artemis is the best known one. A force to be reckoned with. Artemis is the Goddess of the moon as well and with this blizzard it's been dark for hours.” His blue eyes found her face. “You tracked me down in all that snow, pinned me down easily. I think it's fitting. I won't refer to you by a ruddy number and Artemis really does suit you what with this being Hades and all.” The dark-haired girl really didn't understand and he must have seen that because it was less than two seconds before he was talking again. “Artemis. That's your name now.” 

The assassin stared at him a moment and that odd feeling inside her chest only grew. Painful but it didn't hurt, real but not physical and made no sense to her. It wanted to take over.

Suddenly she moved to straddle him and pressed her lips to his; the Brit tensed in shock until shock eased and gave way to something else. He kissed her back. The auburn-red haired man pushed the newly named Artemis away though when she started to open his belt; this was wrong.

“We shouldn't.” He shook his head. “You're a teenage girl.”

Artemis' head tilted to the side. “I'm not a virgin, Hades sees to that quickly.”

She worked him free of his pants quickly as he tried not to think of what that sentence meant. He gasped when Artemis wrapped her hand around his hardening length. She started to shove her own bloodied jeans off, which was awkward considering her position and the fact he'd shot her in the leg a few hours ago, but she managed it. They were kissing again then and Artemis still couldn't understand the ache in her chest that seemed to drive her. 

Without warning the tall man grabbed her hips and pulled her to hover over his length, another kiss and she sank down onto him. It was sloppy and hardly well coordinated but Artemis  _felt _ it! She felt warmth and want bubble away at her core as she dug her nails into his shoulders to give her better purchase anchoring herself to him. 

His moans were deep and loud at her neck when he kissed her pale skin. Long, slender fingers gripped her hips so tightly they'd bruise but Artemis was used to bruises, they were almost as predominant to her as the tattoo in her hairline. 

“Fuck!” He gasped out when his thrusts started to grow erratic and desperate. “I'm going to cum, get off me.” He urged and tried to push her from his lap but Artemis didn't let him; she locked her arms around his neck to kiss him again through her needy pants. “Oh fuck!”

The British man came with a cry when he felt Artemis' walls suddenly clamp down around him, a few sharp thrusts and then he fell limp back against the wall. Artemis collapsed against his chest as the pair sucked air into their deprived lungs; she'd had sex, yes, but she'd never felt that before.

While Artemis enjoyed the newness of feeling something, _anything_! He appeared to have snapped back to the world around him and into what she assumed was panic.

“Christ, what have I done?”

“If you're worrying about the possibility of getting me pregnant, don't. I cannot have children.” The look on his face said that hadn't been what he'd panicking about but certainly was now. “Hades sterilises all Reapers to prevent it.” 

She felt him tense under her. Artemis thought he'd speak but no, just sat there staring at the fire as if locked away in his mind; she settled back against his chest.

~X~

The Detective Inspector stared at Artemis mouth agape when she finished talking and turned her attention back to him. Had she not known better Artemis would have assumed he'd had some sort of stroke or seizure.

“Who the hell would do that to a kid!” He suddenly shouted but Artemis didn't jump. “And why would Hades think something like that was needed?” 

Mycroft chose that moment to return to Artemis' training room. He'd heard the tail end of their conversation and decided to fill in the blanks for his friend. 

“They did it for one reason only, Gregory. If a Reaper were to have a child then said Reaper would be at risk of awakening their feelings and inner parental triggers. If that happened then they'd be more loyal to their offspring than to Hades. Disloyalty is something they'd not allow to go unpunished.”

Greg shook his head as if trying to toss thoughts away. He's seen a lot of fucked up shit in his career; men cut into pieces and tossed in the Thames, women stabbed so many times by angry husbands that they'd had to be identified via dental records, kids suffocated with pillows. Something horrific always happened in London, but what Hades had done to Artemis and the other children they'd stolen he just didn't have words for. 

“It's barbaric.” It was as close to describing it as Greg could get.

“I whole-heartedly agree, Gregory.” He cleared his throat. “It's time for you to go home, I have a car waiting for you. I apologise for keeping you so late, I know your daughter will be visiting you tomorrow.”

“Shit, I forgot about Violet.”

Mycroft flashed that smile that wasn't really a smile but still had all the hallmarks of one. 

“A momentary blip, I'm sure.”

Lestrade followed his friend up the stairs and out into the night air without a fight. He couldn't think about the things they'd done to Artemis any longer; not when he'd be spending the weekend with Violet. He'd not think about the torture and body mutilation but something else slipped in to fill its place.

“Did you really have sex with her, Myc?” Greg asked. 

Mycroft had the decency to look somewhat ashamed of himself; the nigh breeze began to pick up. Mycroft had said he'd thought Artemis to be somewhere between fourteen and sixteen, though younger was possible too; it could have been old enough but the auburn-red haired man had been thirty-one at the time and Lestrade's cop side didn't like it. 

“Yes.”

“What you did was wrong, Myc. That girl was too young and you could have been wrong about her age, she could have been younger.” Mycroft nodded, clearly all these thoughts had gone through his head before. “Maybe statutory rape isn't the worst thing she's gone through but-” 

“I know, Gregory.”

Lestrade sighed. “I think I get why you did it. Why she did it.” He went quiet a moment then stepped closer to the taller man and gestured back inside the large house. “Myc, you do know that she's in love with you, right?” 

Mycroft's eyebrows shot upwards. “That is ridiculous.” 

“No, Myc.” Greg wouldn't let him just dismiss the whole thing. “It's the truth. You'd see it if you let yourself.” He straightened his coat. “Thanks for dinner. Tonight was actually rather fun even if I am going to regret the bruises. Night, Myc.” 

The British Government watched Gregory step into the awaiting car and it slowly roll away. He knew Artemis felt something towards him but he'd long thought it was gratitude for giving her a name, giving her the basis to become someone for herself … not love. He'd not even fully realised she was capable of love. The entire idea was insane surely.


	10. Screw Anonymity

The Stranger's Room was peacefully quiet and Mycroft had commandeered it for the foreseeable future. It was later than his usual hours at the Diogenes Club but he'd wanted to speak there of Hades' inner workings rather than back at his office. In a way the Stranger's Room's isolation reminded him of the Finland cabin. Mycroft sat in a leather armchair as Artemis stood before him speaking in long details about Hades. Mycroft leant on his fist as he listened and absorbed. 

“... because of that we're – they're – overseen by six generals that are named for Pluto's moons.” 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “There are only _five _moons of Pluto.”

“True. The sixth General is Yama in reference to the Hinu religion.” 

Made sense, though was a bit over dramatic. Mycroft nodded and gestured for her to continue so she did. 

“They control the continents. Charon is our chief even though there are other generals, he oversees Europe. Styx heads up Oceania. Nix is South America, we do a lot of work in Argentina surprisingly. Kerberos covers Africa and Yama has Asia and Hydra-”

“North America. Yes, it seems self explanatory. Although if believe I need to – once again – point out there is a flaw in your math. There are seven continents.” 

Artemis didn't look impressed. “How much work do you think we – _they_ – do in Antarctica? Unless you mean yourself, Iceman.” 

“Fair point.” He'd not realised she knew his codename but if Moriarty had called him _The Iceman _then it made sense Artemis would know he was Antarctica. “Go on.”

“After the generals there are a series of Lieutenants who take the generals' orders and issue them out to Specialists. That's what I am, a Specialist Reaper. We're handed mercenary works and put together teams if needed to carry out said orders. We can also be looped in along with Foot Soldiers in some cases, that's what happened with me. I'm not running the op to kill you, I was brought in originally to keep surveillance on your headquarters since I'm a sharpshooter.” 

“So it's these six Generals, Lieutenants, Specialist and Foot Soldiers. Anyone else?”

Artemis shook her head. “Well, technically there are also the Hebes. They're the children that are being trained.” 

Mycroft shuffled in his chair. “For an emotionless organisation Hades does like to be cryptic, mysterious and somewhat of a prima donna.” 

He watched as she reached for and unrolled a rather large map that she lay out on a large table. She spent a few minutes going over the map as they discussed where would be the best place to hit, where would give the best reward with least risk. Mycroft saw the map in his mind, every little dot that indicated a base or safe house Artemis knew of; she'd been of such help in his plan. 

The tall man did his best to ignore what Greg had told him a few nights previous. He still thought the whole idea was utterly ridiculous but Mycroft couldn't help noticing that she always stood a little too close to him, she smiled at him yet went blank when someone else entered the room; like a shop girl faking it for customers. 

Soon the conversation came to a natural end and Mycroft pushed himself up went to the decanter where he poured them both a generous glass of brandy. When he offered one of the glasses to Artemis she sipped at it cautiously. 

“I've never had brandy before.”

“Conclusions?” He asked with a slight smirk.

“It's okay.” She shrugged.

“You'll learn to appreciate it.” He assured as he fell back into his armchair.

Artemis went to sit on the floor and rested her head back against the wall as she continued to sip at her drink. Mycroft's eyes raked over the assassin, her legs were kicked out and she looked more relaxed than he'd ever seen her before. 

“You do know there are perfectly good chairs available to you.”

“I prefer the floor.” The raven-haired woman didn't move, instead she patted the floor beside her. “Come sit with me?

The British Government scoffed at her. “This suit is  from  Savile Row. ” 

“So? It's just a suit.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, clearly she had no concept of how much he loved his suits. “Come on, it'll be like old times.” 

He breathed out a sigh knowing he'd relent. Artemis hadn't ever asked him for anything – big or small – she'd just talked to him and been loyal. Surely he could wrinkle one suit for her. Mycroft stood with a small nod then took himself and his brandy to go over to the opposite side of the room where he lowered himself to the ground. Apart from Finland the only time he'd ever sat on the ground willingly was when he'd been a child playing with Sherlock. 

Mycroft had everything that had happened in that Hades cabin stored away in his mind. Sherlock had a palace but Mycroft's was more of a city, all black and white noire like his old movies, that lead along streets to memories and information. He could recall everything word for word in that cabin, but sitting beside Artemis on the floor brought back the feelings of it … his ass had gone numb back then as well. 

They sat in a comfortable quiet for a few moments before Artemis reached for his hand and looked at the ring he always wore. Her hands were so soft with little callouses from where she'd spent years with a rifle in her hands.

“You're married?”

Mycroft's eyes went wide. “No. Good Lord, no.” He took his hand back and stared down at the ring. “It belonged to my Uncle Rudy. My family never really talks about him, too painful for my parents and Sherlock doesn't really care it seems. I'm the only one who ever mentions him.” Since when was Mycroft Holmes the sort of man who shared? “He worked for the government as well and I wanted to follow in his footsteps, until I surpassed him of course.” 

“Something like the beta test for you then.”

He took a sip of rich amber liquid. “Crude analogy but yes, you could say that. He, em, he died in an explosion. An assassination.” Mycroft took a large gulp as he forced the memory back down into mind. “This ring was the only thing left of him … at least the only thing left intact. I don't know why I kept it.” 

Artemis set her glass aside and flashed him a smile as she tucked her legs under herself.

“British, I'm not very good with feelings but I'm pretty sure you kept it because you loved your Uncle Rudy, and you miss him.”

Very rarely things would surprise him but Artemis just had this way of slipping amazement in there. He just watched her with pale blue eyes, all the darkness she'd seen and there she was smiling at him, comforting him.

“Maybe you're right.”

Silence lingered between them a short time. Mycroft rarely found himself lost for words but maybe it was for the best in that moment, the quiet was gentle and calm. At work he was always calculating and plotting, fixing one mess or another, running England or occasionally the United States. Holmes the younger had John to steady his mind so for a time Mycroft had tried using Gregory Lestrade to do the same, it worked to some extent but – as Artemis had said all those years ago – normal people were goldfish. Artemis though, she might not have possessed the same intellect he and his siblings did but she was smart, she could understand and for some reason she was still the only person he'd ever found it _easy _to talk to.

Artemis reached for his pocket watch, seemed she'd taken to manhandling him, and flicked it open. Mycroft R. A. Holmes

“You've had this a long time as well, not the sort of man to have his own name engraved in a watch though are you, especially not with a middle initial for a name you hate.”

He breathed out a laugh. “You sound like my brother, only less insulting.”

She shrugged. “Deduction is easy once you know the person you're reading.” Mycroft really couldn't argue with that; he could predict where Greg would take his daughter for dinner based entirely on which tie he'd chosen for the day. “Tell me what the R stands for? Please?” Mycroft just drank down the last of his brandy in silence. “Romulus? Remus?” 

“Why do you want to know so badly?” The auburn-red haired man asked.

“Because you don't want me to know. Is it Ramesses? Or it could be something with a negative media connotation like Renfield. Is it Renfield? I bet it's Renfield.” 

Artemis actually sounded happy and excited, he'd never seen that from her before and frankly it was just another thing about her to surprise him.

“Wrong on all accounts I'm afraid.” He squinted. “And why would you guess Renfield?” 

“Since you let me live with you I've been working my way through your library. I finished Red Dragon rather quickly.” Mycroft had noticed Artemis took great care of his little gift; treasured it even. “I finished Dracula this morning while you were in the shower.” 

“I'm pleased you're discovering things you enjoy, Artemis, but why do you know I was showering?”

Artemis shrugged and shut the pocket watch before she took up her brandy glass once more. She might not have been on Mycroft's level but she was smart enough to figure out he was changing the subject. 

“What is your middle name?”

Mycroft sighed, she wouldn't let him get away without telling her. This was the second thing she'd asked of him, small and inconsequential when compared to the things he'd been asked for by family and work. 

“Reinhardt.” He finally answered. “Mycroft Reinhardt Amyas Holmes.”

The beautiful assassin squinted; she'd been displaying more facially as of late.

“I don't see what's wrong with that. Reinhardt is fine.”

“I … I wasn't exactly a _thin _child and children can be quite cruel. They'd call me Mycroft Roundarse Holmes, fortunately I got sent to boarding school soon after and dropped the weight. It was a stupid and nonsensical taunt but it still upset me, I'd not learnt just how inconsequential normal people were yet.” 

“It seems pointless to bully someone for being different. A waste of time and yielding little to no profit in the long run.”

“Not to sound rude, but you never really got to be a child so you'd not know.” 

Somehow he thought it better she'd not experienced normal children and their pathetic attempts at superiority. However, she'd been stolen from her family, tortured and indoctrinated into a horrific gang of mercenaries and killers. Artemis never stood a chance.

“Reinhardt means brave counsel. I think that's rather fitting four you, British. You're not brave in the way most people would think, but you are brave. Lestrade told me about Sherringford and what you did for John. Told me you were willing to die so Sherlock wouldn't have to kill the doctor. That's brave, British.” 

“How do you know that?” The decanter across the room was starting to look pretty good to him.

“I speak German, it's not hard to figure out.” Her head tilted. “Oh, you mean Lestrade. I think we're friends now. He has the number to the burner cell you gave me and we text. Now I have _two _friends.”

Mycroft found some comfort in what she'd said. He knew he wasn't a physically strong man and in truth he hated the sight of blood, but Artemis was a good judge of character and if she thought him brave then she must have been right.

Blue eyes watched her intently. “How can you think so much of me?”

She laughed, small and basic but it was there and Mycroft thought it beautiful. 

“I learnt a long time ago that you were a good man, British, and I've not seen anything to dissuade me from that conclusion.”

He let his head fall back against the wall. “You said good people don't live too long, if I recall correctly.” 

She shuffled closer to him. “Well, I'm grateful to be proven wrong. You sat in a wolf's den and took the time to get to know her, to name her. That's why I think so highly of you, Mycroft Holmes.” 

If asked later why he did it Mycroft wouldn't have been able to provide an answer, all he'd be able to say was that his body had pushed out his mind a moment and taken over. With a micro smile he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Artemis' cheek. 

“Gregory thinks you are in love with me.” He blurted out.

She didn't miss a single beat. “That's because I am.” Artemis rested her head on his shoulder. “I don't do well with emotions, but I've had long enough to figure out love is the one I feel most strongly and I feel it the best because it was the first one I ever experienced. I've felt it for you for fourteen and a half years.”

Mycroft just stared at her blankly, his brain actually shut down for a second or two and he had to wait for it to reboot.

“I pretty much consigned myself to live out my days alone. I've practically been asexual for years now.”

Artemis pushed herself up onto her knees which forced blue eyes to lock with her polished emeralds. 

“You don't have to be.” 

Then her lips were against his for a chaste kiss. He remembered all those years ago when she'd clung to him in need; he actually still had a couple of tiny crescent shaped scars on his freckled shoulders from it. 

“You could do so much better, Artemis. There are far more handsome men out there deserving of you and you could have your pick of them.”

She smiled at him in a way he wanted to call loving. “I don't care what you look like, British, I want you because you're Mycroft Holmes. You're the man who gave me my name, opened up the doors for me to feel and have a personality. In a way … I was made for you.” 

He pulled her to sit on his lap.

“You make it sound so planned.”

Mycroft's wasn't used to this, he didn't know how to response properly and would more thank likely have a mental panic attack later when no one could see or hear him; not that he'd _ever _admit to that.

“Maybe it was.” She snuggled into him. “You're like a lighthouse in a storm to me.”

“They locked you up and took your soul, didn't they.” He said softly, his breath hot against her neck.

“Until you gave it back.”


	11. Ice, Blood And Fire

Together, Mycroft and Artemis had finally gathered enough information from Artemis herself and sleuthing to mount an attack on Hades, well, some of the smaller bases at least. Lady Smallwood thought it was a bad choice, had sworn up and down they'd get absolutely nothing out of it and that Artemis was playing them all for fools, but Mycroft and Sir Edwin had outvoted her. It was happening whether she liked it or not. 

That didn't stop the stubborn mind of Lady Elizabeth Smallwood though. She'd decided to have one last crack at talking Mycroft out of it, put on her charm and push him into doing things her way instead. That was how she found herself marching down the government halls like a woman on mission and straight into The British Government's office without a word to Anthea or so much as a knock. Before a word could leave her lips Lady Smallwoood ground to a halt, eyes wide with shock. Anthea hadn't even bothered to leave her desk, she didn't imagine the elder woman sticking around long. 

Before the politician was a sight she'd never imagined. Artemis had been pressed down on Mycroft's large desk, her charcoal skirt pushed up around her hips and papers everywhere while the man himself thrust deep inside her perfect body. His face pressed into the raven-haired beauty's neck as he panted desperately, hands gripped at her waist. The suit clad man might have been too lost in their passion but the assassin had been too well trained not to notice such an intrusion. Artemis let her head fall back so it almost dangled off the edge of the desk so their eyes locked together, of course Lady Smallwood glared at Artemis who just smirked at the elder woman then – with absolutely no shame whatsoever – raised her left hand and made a shooing gesture.  Outraged, embarrassed and a little ashamed of herself  Elizabeth vacated the room uncaring that the door remained open; or at least it did until Anthea shut it quietly. 

Artemis wasn't dumb, she had known since the day they'd met that Lady Smallwood hated her for her history with Mycroft, for the way Mycroft looked at her but Artemis couldn't have cared less. 

She gripped Mycroft's tie and yanked him up to kiss her, he went willingly and with a smile. Their tongues met in a battle for dominance that Artemis let Mycroft win, their foreheads touching every now and again when they separated for air before letting their lips brush against each other's once more. Her scent flooded his senses, their kiss wasn't innocent more like a tease, hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. Mycroft hadn't ever experienced anything like this before and he couldn't get enough of her perfect body. So smooth and soft, so firm and porcelain; all his because this walking weapon of a woman trusted him, loved him. 

“Insatiable little minx.” He teased, _God she's beautiful. _

His lips where at her neck in seconds, nibbling away and marking her as his. Mycroft gazed into her beautiful green eyes, he could look at those eyes for the rest of time and still think them stunning but Artemis had other ideas of a more primal nature. When she moaned again he pulled out momentarily to tug her closer and force her thighs further apart, then he settled himself between them, her warmth inviting him in. The assassin gasped when he filled her to the hilt again, deep and powerful. Mycroft set a fast pace that was on the border of pain and pleasure, he had Artemis moaning and gasping into his neck, her little sound only spurring him on and filling him with a masculine pride. 

Just as Artemis was getting use to the piston like speed and depth from a man she'd not have expected this impromptu desk fucking from, he gripped her ass and pulled her closer still, deeper, that was when she lost the ability to speak. Of course she'd had sex before but she'd never felt something for the other person before and it had taken her by surprised by how much Mycroft Holmes made her feel. 

Suddenly white erupted behind her eyes and Artemis tumbled over the cliff edge, crashing into the rhapsodic ecstasy filled water below.

"Mycroft!"

The name came out as a whimpered scream in his neck, that perfect sound sent him to the edge as well. Artemis' body tightened around Mycroft, driving him insane, pushing him into the dark waters below. With a loud moan Mycroft came finding pleasure with the woman he loved.

Afterwards, while regaining their composure, Mycroft slumped down into his chair and tucked himself away only to find himself with a lap full of Artemis. So beautiful. He'd never had sex in his office before, always kept work and personal live separate; not that there was much of the later. However, as she snuggled against him he found he couldn't have cared less. His raven-haired bodyguard had started to get to grips with comfort and romance but she was still a long way off from understanding emotion properly, then again Mycroft sometimes wondered if that was true of himself as well. 

Now that Artemis was around on a permanent basis and very willing, he'd been having more sex than he ever had in his life. Everyone had noticed the change him him, that Myc was happier but Gregory had figured out why the quickest. Inspector Lestrade had been the only one Myc confided in about his budding relationship with Artemis. Greg hadn't ever judged him and – as much as Mycroft refused to think he needed nor wanted friends – was his only real friend. He'd actually been encouraging though cautious. 

~X~

Much later in the evening Mycroft's cellphone rang loudly – much to his chagrin – and when he answered the auburn haired man found himself quickly informed of the breech on the first Hades base. Seemed their infiltration had been successful thanks to Artemis' knowledge, however, there had been a number of casualties. Their people had scavenged what they could but Hades' wasn't stupid they'd set the whole place ablaze as soon as they'd lost ground. Frankly, with a name like  _Hades_ fire should have been expected. 

Mycroft set his phone down on the desk then leant back in his desk chair and sighed up at the ceiling. He was thankful they'd dealt a blow to Hades and their Reapers but he couldn't help wondering if the cost wasn't worth the benefit. 

Glancing around his study he found himself thankful he no longer did legwork. The closest he'd come to an actual mission in years was his trip to Serbia to get Sherlock, and that had been little more than a plane trip, a crash course in Serbian and an outfit change. He wasn't built for being out in the field, he wasn't a spy and he sure as hell wasn't Artemis. Maybe that was the way it should have been, him the massive brain and her the solider. Brain and brawn.

Suddenly blue eyes snapped down to see Artemis stood in the doorway dressed in nothing but one of his shirts and damn was she beautiful. A nightmare of a childhood and indoctrinated until she couldn't remember how to feel and yet there she was with bold green eyes full of life and an expression of concern. Hades wasn't as powerful as it thought it was.

“What's wrong, British?” She asked as she stepped further into the study.

“Our move on the base you informed us of was a success. However, I find myself wondering if Lady Smallwood might have been correct.”

Artemis rounded his large desk and forced her way into his lap, well, she didn't really have to force, it was more of a simple movement and then she was held tight.

“No, it's just the first step.” Artemis assured. “You had to have known destroying Hades wouldn't be open and shut. No one ever said this was going to be easy.” 

“I know.” He nodded and pulled her closer; he really wasn't used to that but he did enjoy it. “I'll organize the next breech, we need to hit them hard and fast before Hades figures out you're their leak.” 

Artemis nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck before she pressed her lips to his. He smelt of cologne and the cigarettes he snuck when no one was looking, strange that it was so similar to when they'd first met years earlier. 

“Will you come to bed?” She flashed him a smile. “The British Government needs his sleep.”

He nodded softly. Artemis was right, he needed sleep, his eyes stung every time he blinked and hadn't been able to stop yawning for nearly an hour.

Artemis rose to her feet and Mycroft let her tug him up then off towards the bedroom. 

~X~

The storm had finally dropped and Hades' Reapers would no doubt be gearing up and coming for him soon. He might have appeared calm but on the inside Mycroft was in full panic mode, he had no idea what to do; which was a first. He could run, of course, but he wouldn't know which direction to flee in. 

The skinny man paced back and forth in the cabin and only snapped out of it when he heard a dull click. Blue eyes blinked rapidly as he ground to a halt and turned to see young Artemis as she handcuffed herself back to the black, metal frame.

He opened his mouth to question what she was doing but the teenager got there first.

“I need you to wrap your scarf back around my wrists so I can't slip back out. Really tight this time.”

It took Mycroft a moment to get himself moving but he did as she asked, snaked the grey scarf around her porcelain wrists then tugged the fabric tight and harsh. 

“Good. Now shoot me.”

Mycroft's face paled. “What? No.” 

Artemis sighed. “You have to otherwise they'll know I let you go!” 

That gave the elder man pause. He'd expected to be charging blindly off into the snow, maybe she'd have given him a head start but to just let him leave, he'd not seen that coming. 

“Let me go?” He repeated.

“Do you want to know what I've learnt from my life, British?” She asked quietly, green eyes locked with his blue ones.

“Enlighten me.”

“It's quite simple really. The good people … they never out live the killers. That is, unless the killers refuse to do their job.” Looking into her eyes he could see she meant it, Artemis actually refused to kill him; she'd gone against her programming. “Once you're out the door you'll be facing East, you need to go North, just keep running into the tree line and then keep going until you reach a small river. When you do find somewhere to cross it and go West for about ten miles. Once there you'll be able to find a disused road, if you go North on it then you'll get back to a populated area after about seven to ten miles.” She hardly paused a second to let all her directions sink in. “Now, you really need to shoot me again.”

Mycroft shook his head. “You could come with me.” 

“Not a chance in hell. The world is for people, British, and I'm not a person.”

She kicked her gun that had been dumped on the floor towards him, a silent order for him to hurry up and shoot her. Reluctantly, he retrieved the gun and aimed at her leg; Mycroft hadn't ever liked guns. 

“No.” She shifted and leant back exposing her abdomen and nodded down. “It has to look like I honestly couldn't get free or follow you, you need to make me bleed out.”

Mycroft's eyes went wide. “I'm not going to kill you.” 

She flashed him a smile, something honest and foreign to her. “Oh, it'll take more than one skinny British dude with a gun to kill me.”

Mycroft considered it a moment, glanced down at the pistol with a sigh then back up to the beautiful young woman. 

“Thank you, Artemis.”

With that he fired, the bang loud and violent. Instantly crimson poured from her slender body, stained what wasn't already of her clothes and Mycroft had to fight the urge to throw up. Artemis though, she hardly even blinked, didn't react to the pain in the slightest just paled with the blood loss. The scent of iron filled the air, vile and noxious. Mycroft had smelt blood before but never in such a quantity; this girl was going to die because of him. 

“Good.” She said hoarsely. “Now I need you to set the place on fire.”

Mycroft's blue eyes went wide, he was dreaming, had to be. He longed to open his eyes and be in bed knowing this had all been a nightmare, that he'd not shot a teenage girl and set her ablaze. 

“You'll die!”

“I told you, it'll take more than a British guy to kill me. The place has to burn to destroy all the evidence that we _haven't _been trying to kill each other. Burn it to the ground.”

“Why don't you just come with me?”

“I told you why. I'll be fine, they'll want to question me later and there's no point loosing a good sharpshooter so they'll fix me.”

He couldn't help but notice she'd said 'fix me', not 'heal' or 'save' but fix as though she were a broken toy.

Mycroft knew she was right. If he left with her Hades would follow and now he'd shot her they'd not get far. This was the way it had to be. He _hated _legwork.

Reluctantly the elder man nodded and made quick work of starting a fire from the scraps of things they'd used through their stay at the cabin. The flames started small at first, in fact he thought it might go out, but then a few scraps of fabric he'd pulled from her top when he'd taken the bullet out caught fire and the orange glow rose to lick at the walls.

He gabbed the things he'd originally came for and was about to leave when he glanced back at her sorrowfully. Then it struck him, he'd dug a bloody bullet out of her leg, what would her fellow Reapers think when they patched her up to find a bullet wound with no bullet? Quickly he dropped to his knees and yanked the tattered piece of metal from where he'd left it on the coffee table and pulled her leg to him; if they were doing this then they had to make it water tight. 

“Thank you.” Her words were dull and slurred as unconsciousness called to her.

Red coated his fingers as he pulled free the tiny stitches and all but shoved the fragment of metal back into her thigh. The sound of her blood drip, drip, dripped onto the cold floor while fire rose behind him. 

When he finished and looked up he found Artemis' eyes fluttering from blood loss; those eyes were the only inclination that she felt anything.

In a split second where his mind failed him, Mycroft pressed a gentle kiss to her cold lips and then he was gone. 

The last thing Mycroft saw from the tree line was the cabin go up in smoke that danced amongst the lingering snowfall. 


	12. Respect For Savile Row

Darkness had fallen hours earlier casting London into night. Mycroft and his bodyguard lay in bed all wrapped up in sheets and a post sex bliss that Mycroft thought he'd never grow used to; never  _have _ to grow used to. Artemis snuggled into his lean and frankly rather unimpressive – in his eyes anyway – chest as he snaked an arm around her to absent-mindedly play with her naturally wavy, raven-hair. It was peaceful, Mycroft couldn't really remember a time when he was in utter peace before, when his mind wasn't swimming with plans and schedules; if it had ever happened it certainly had to have been before he'd started working for the government. He had no idea how but this walking weapon of a woman calmed him, made him happy. 

Suddenly Mycroft found himself jolted out of his inner thoughts when Artemis started talking. Though quiet her voice seemed loud in the silent bedroom. Blue eyes peered down at the young woman who had her cheek rested on his chest. 

“I'm going on the next Hades base breach.” She told him assuredly without room for argument.

“Why?” The elder man asked softly.

Mycroft knew he didn't need to worry about Artemis in such a situation, she could handle herself. 

“I was there once so I memorized the lay out. Also, there was a vault I walked passed labelled 'Records' and I think it may have some paper records about us. Reapers don't gossip but we do have a rumour that always just seems to linger.” 

“Which is?” He enquired with a single raised eyebrow.

“Hades is greedy because running our organisation is extremely expensive. So the rumour goes that some of us were sold to Hades by parents or kidnappers, whatever, but the rest who were taken were from prominent and wealthy families, sometimes the kids of people we assassinated.” 

“And Hades keeps records of you so they can continue to blackmail your families until they run out of money or cotton on to the fact you'll never be returned.” 

Artemis nodded. “Yes.”

“Very simple, I like it. Paper records of course mean an outside source could never figure out who you were or where you came from.”

“Yes.” She repeated. “There are still children being trained and I though that if we have those records – that's if they really exist – then we could figure out where kids came from and send them home depending on how far gone they are.”

He had to agree, the more children that could be reunited with their parents the better. It was too late for Artemis but these other children had a chance; of course they had to get the kids first and figure out if these records were actually real. 

“I think that's an excellent idea. Also, if you go with our men you'll be able to keep them alive.”

Mycroft wasn't stupid, he knew the agents they sent were well trained and good at what they did but they weren't Hades. 

“The base will be very heavily guarded and – since it's in Lesotho – Kerberos himself might be there. If those records are there then it's probably his continental HQ. If he's on site your people are dead without me.”

“From villain to heroic protector.” He breathed out a laugh.

“I'm just a good Reaper.” Artemis countered with no emotion whatsoever.

“Ah, you're no longer a Reaper, you are my bodyguard.”

Hades was a monster and so many children had been indoctrinated by it, they'd become monsters themselves through no fault of their own, but Artemis had managed to escape that. 

Artemis pressed a kiss to his lightly hair spattered chest. “I have been doing a good job of that.”

That got a chuckle out of the British Government; he laughed so rarely. “Yes, you have going by the fact I'm not dead.”

A moment or two passed.

“You do know I wasn't asking for your permission, right? I'm just informing you of my intentions to go to Lesotho.”

“Fully aware of that, Little Assassin.” The arm that wasn't wrapped around Artemis found itself shoved under the pillow behind his head. “If these records are there perhaps I should go as well.”

“No.” She told him a little too quickly. “You hate legwork and you're pretty out of practice. I was a kid when you were practised and still nearly killed you.” 

“ T ouché .  I shall hang back and come in once you and my men have cleared the base.”

“You make it sound simple. Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to clear what might be Kerberos' HQ out? You best be sending an army.”

Myc nodded. “Indeed I am and at the helm will be you as my general. You are the most qualified after all, Artemis. Besides, it's been years since I've been to Africa.” 

Reluctantly Artemis agreed. He knew she didn't want protecting him to be dumped on top of her workload but Artemis was a capable girl and Mycroft had every faith in her. Every faith, something he doubted anyone else had given her before. 

“Looks like we're going to Lesotho then.” Said Artemis, her breath soft on his skin.

“Hmm, I needed a holiday.” He teased.

“Yeah, a vacation where an unknown quantity of highly trained mercenaries and assassins that feel little to no pain want you dead.” 

“Oh yes, please do go on filling me with unbridled confidence and optimism.”

She shrugged. “Just telling it like it is.”

Mycroft didn't seem overly impressed – never did – but still he kept the former Reaper close to him as they lay there in his bed. 

“Charming. I'll have things arranged for us to go to Lesotho.” The ginger cleared his throat. “For now though I'm hungry and I'm fairly certain there aren't any take out places left open, so I'm going to see what I can scrounge up from my fridge.” 

Myc shuffled until he was seated on the edge of his bed, the air was cold but he knew he'd be fine once his robe was on. Artemis just watched his freckled skin as he searched around for his pyjama pants and he rose from the bed with green robe in hand. Just before he reached the bedroom door she called out to him. 

“If you wanted meals on hand you should be fucking someone who can cook.” 

Mycroft chuckled, genuinely chuckled which was remarkably unusual for him. “I think I'd rather have you and terrible dinners.” 

“Why. What am I?”

Her voice had taken on that sorrowful tone again and it froze him in his tracks. Everyone from Sherlock to Sir Edwin knew Artemis didn't do well with deciphering or feeling emotions but Mycroft knew they were strongest with him and usually leaned towards her having an almost unworthy aura around her. 

For a moment the British Government was understandably confused by her question and cast a look over his shoulder – hand still on the door handle – questioningly. Even back in that cabin all those years ago he'd wanted to spare her practically non-existent feelings.

“I don't understand, Artemis. I told you, you're my bodyguard.”

She pushed herself up but didn't bother to wrap the covers around her naked chest, Artemis didn't feel shame or really register cold. Damn she was beautiful. All that porcelain skin, he didn't even care about the scars that littered it; how could he when he'd put some of them there himself?. Her long raven-hair that hung in loose waves and then there were those stunning green eyes that probably could have stopped Lucifer himself in his tracks; ironic when he thought about what they were planning.

Finally Artemis elaborated. “I know I'm your bodyguard, yes, that's obvious. Am I even allowed to be with you if I'm supposed to be keeping you alive? What I mean is what else am I. Fuck buddie? I know I'm broken.” 

Mycroft's hand fell from the door handle as he spun around to face her fully amongst the sheets of his antique, French style bed. 

“You are much more than that and you are not _broken_. You're no more broken than Sherlock or myself.” 

“How about Eurus?”

Mycroft paused. He'd compared Artemis to his little sister back in that cabin and it had frightened him. Upon first glance, yes, they seemed similar but in truth they weren't anything alike. Artemis had been forced to turn her emotions off and couldn't turn them back on without help, Eurus hadn't ever had them. The only way they were alike was that Mycroft had failed them both. He'd continued where Uncle Rudy had left off with Eurus, hidden her away like a dirty little secret. Then he'd left Artemis behind in that cabin, the one he'd set on  _fire_ . He'd failed them both. Sherlock had saved their sister and now Mycroft had a second chance to save Artemis and he'd damn well do it. 

“No. You are _not_ broken and please do not believe you are worth so little to me.” 

“Then what am I?” She asked without any expectations of any kind; she honestly just wanted to understand her place with him.

“You are … my girlfriend.”

Mycroft stopped dead at that, he'd never expected to hear those words leave his lips.  He'd had a few girlfriends when he'd been at school and even a boyfriend or two at university but they'd always been relationships of convenience and hadn't lasted long at all. Once he'd settled into government work Mycroft had assigned himself to being alone forever, more or less self set celibacy. A girlfriend? This far into his lonely life? No, Mycroft Holmes hadn't seen that coming despite his massive intellect.

“Even though I'm not right? You can say I'm not broken but we both know I am.”

Mycroft sighed and stepped back towards the bed, cerulean orbs locked with polished emeralds. 

“You're not broken.” He said again assuredly. “You're just cracked, Artemis, and those cracks can be easily repaired with enough time.” 

The tall man leant down over the bed then and kissed her pink lips softly as he tried to fill her with as much encouragement and emotion as he could. When he straightened he held out a hand for her to take.

“Come along, Little Assassin, let's go get something to eat.”

She didn't smile but Mycroft didn't care. A slender hand slipped into his and followed him out the bedroom naked as the day she was born; a sight for him to enjoy. 

~X~

Mycroft had bought a fairly sized army to Lesotho. He'd watched Artemis once the plane had landed, she'd made quick but amazingly skilled work of unpacking her mountain of equipment and preparing for who knew how many people she'd end up killing. If Mycroft hadn't known how loyal she was to him he'd have been somewhat afraid of her; not that he'd _ever _admit it.

His men didn't seem happy to find what they saw as a government pen pusher putting a little girl in charge. Colonel J. Henley had flashed her nothing but irritated sideways glances since they'd arrived and was still yet to figure out Artemis couldn't have cared less.

The raven-haired beauty briefed them all at the field base they'd set up. Gone deep into as much detail ash possible to try and stress to the soldiers the severity of the situation and the enemies they'd face. Mycroft thanked God for Artemis' photographic memory because getting a drone or a satellite over that building would have been impossible, his girl though, she just grabbed a pen and drew every corner of the place that she'd seen; a good eighty-five percent of the place. Fortunately she knew where the armoury was so they'd not have a sudden surge of weapons sprung on them from nowhere. Colonel Henley had tried to start giving his men orders, of course he had they were his soldiers after all, but Artemis had shot down his strategy in seconds, it would have gotten them killed. Instead the former Reaper insisted that they broke into four teams to cover each side of the building, the first team of which she'd lead and would go straight in the front door. Suicide Colonel Henley had called it but Mycroft had every faith in his girl. 

As expected, when they'd moved out Artemis had all but forced Mycroft into a bulletproof vest and told him to stay put or she'd shoot him herself. The British Government couldn't have argued with that even if he'd wanted to, her job was to keep him safe and that was exactly what Artemis would do. 'You sit, stay and don't move or I'll shoot you myself' had been her exact words and while most wouldn't have noticed Mycroft saw just how much she cared about him, and that meant everything. 

Artemis and three men, including the grey-haired Colonel approached the old, decrepit looking building slowly neither with caution nor enthusiasm, they had to beep everything blank; an easier job for Artemis than Mycroft soldiers. The rest of her team hung back in the tree line where Hades couldn't see them. The second they'd made themselves known Reapers had been watching them with weapons raised prepared to kill at the drop of a hat. 

“Identify yourselves!” Ordered one of the guards, an overly tall man with a – probably fake – French accent.

The three men with her stopped just like she'd told them too back at the briefing while Artemis continued until she was little more than an arms distance from the two guards. She spun around and lifted up her hair so they could see the small series of numbers tattooed on her hairline; _132601\. _Mycroft hated those numbers. 

“I need to speak with Kerberos. The British Government has decided it's a good idea to wage war on Hades.” Artemis told them blankly.

A second, hardly a moment, went by before the two men lowered their weapons and radioed to the roof for those men to do the same. Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief as he watched through her body camera. The look on their faces said it all, this was all highly irregular but Hades was so sure about themselves, so strict in their ways that they automatically believed her. Most would think it much too easy but Mycroft knew Hades, didn't mattered if a handful – hell two dozen – outsiders breached them, Reapers would kill everyone easily. Reapers weren't soldiers working for a pay cheque or for the greater good, no, they were an organisation of walking weapons. Killing was their trained nature. 

Mycroft continued to watch through the body cameras as Artemis calmly approached without a single hint of deception and … in one fell swoop killed both guards. Blood splattered across the camera lens and dripped down like rain over glasses on a cold day. 

Mycroft continued to just sit there a good five klicks away from where Artemis had just started killing her former comrades, he watched every gory second on the screens before him amongst yet more of his men. Africa was too hot and he didn't like sitting in a bulletproof vest but Artemis had insisted and he knew better than to argue with her. A suit really hadn't been his best choice for an outfit but it was too late now. 

“God, I hate legwork,” he muttered to himself.

Almost everyone who saw the murderous images flashing across the screen would have more than likely been shocked and outraged by all of this horror but not Mycroft Holmes, he'd overseen so much of this he'd gone numb to it all like a goth teenager watching slasher movies all day long. It was all different through a screen, even though he knew everything he saw was real the Brit could separate himself from it all. This was his girl and she was going to do him proud of that Mycroft had no doubt. 

This sort of 'work' would take a long time, it wasn't like in the films, but two hours later the ginger was still sat there with his ass going numb. He'd just sat there as his men dropped like flies – or at least the ones not with Artemis did – knowing he couldn't do a thing to help her. His blue eyes never left Artemis' body camera for more than a few seconds, she'd been splashed with crimson but none of it was her own. He couldn't help but think back to when she'd first pinned him down, could remember the snow being inhaled in his lungs and freezing them. They'd met in blood and death so this was fitting, perfectly normal for them. Artemis did her best work covered in blood.

The British Government sat there baking in the sun, waited and waited then waited some more until eventually, _finally_, the clear call came through the radio from his men followed by Artemis' less than enthusiasm reminder that they still hadn't found Kerberos.

Walking five klicks hadn't been fun but Mycroft had done it. He marched down with the re-enforcements, past the unending dead Reapers and through countless puddles of ichor, into the building and down a few more hallways until he found Colonel Henley yelling in Artemis' face. The little assassin showed nothing of how she felt; probably little to nothing in this situation. 

“... you really think Kerberos would just sit around and let us wipe out a shit tonne of his men! Dumb little girl, he ain't here! So stop pretending you're Wednesday Addams or whatever this game is -” Henley gestured loosely up and down her “- and quit playing war. Me and my men have gone through the whole building and he's not here. Also, you're not in charge here, Princess!” 

“No, Colonel Henley, I am.” Said Mycroft as he strode into the concrete room stood tall and powerful despite knowing every other person in that room could snap him in half easily. “You'll show Artemis some respect or you'll find yourself stationed so far south your only company will be penguins.” He turned towards Artemis but paused and returned to Henley. “Oh, and it is 'my men and I', not 'me and my men'.” 

Mycroft went to Artemis then, each step calm and calculated. 

“Can I ask you a question about Colonel Henley?” Her voice was hushed but not a whisper. Mycroft nodded. “Can I kill him?” 

The suit clad man chuckled at that, genuinely chuckled. “Not quite yet.”

Oh Henley grumbled at that but no one cared. Carefully Mycroft brushed a spot of red from her cheek and flashed her a smile. 

“Thank you for the use of your men. I apologize for half of them being dead.” They were going to have to work on Artemis' conversational skills. “

“Where is this records room?” Asked the taller man as he glanced around the dusty building of long gray halls.

“This way.”

That was all she said before just walking away and expecting Mycroft and the armed men to follow, of course they did. The halls all looked the same, not a single identifying feature beyond the occasional crack in the cement or patch of mould; Hades really did prefer abandoned buildings, places that looked like they were two seconds from collapsing; no one ever suspected those places. 

Eventually, after several dozen hallways and three flights of stairs, they reached a door marked 'RECORDS' a single word, though in all capitals the font was small and out of the way on the vast door; bold yet designed not to be seen. Mycroft raised an eyebrow noticing the retinal scanner. 

“Ahh, the wonders and irritations of biometrics.”

“We'll need one of the generals to get in, that's why I wanted Kerberos.”

Colonel Henley smirked and laughed along with his soldiers. “Not to worry, love, we'll blast it open in no time.”

Artemis decked him, didn't say a word just punched the elder man right in the face. Stood over him she looked down with a blank face.

“You should learn who you mouth off to, some people will roll over and take it, some will attack in anger but a Reaper will kill you simply because you're not worth the hassle of ignoring. What do people usually do to flies that buzz in their face?”

Pleased she'd gotten her point across the ginger watched as Artemis went over to the door and started to see if she could break in some how; not that it seemed to be an overly overoptimistic plan. 

Meanwhile Henley pushed himself off the ground and brushed himself off only to glare at the back of Artemis' head while his men watched on. Mycroft knew it wouldn't be long before something was said, before some 'you need to get rid of her' comment got uttered. Sure enough the colonel shuffled over towards the suit clad man with a deeply furrowed brow. 

“Sir, this girl is dangerous and can't be trusted. I watched her stab a man in the throat, twist and walk away without blinking.” Mycroft thought it strange that the colonel could have seen that and still mouthed off to her. “You can't just blindly follow her.” 

Mycroft wasn't overly concerned with Henley or his opinions, he knew people were always either scared or cautious about Artemis but he knew she was loyal to him. 

Suddenly, while they had their backs to the door and Artemis the heavy door was thrown open rapidly and Artemis found herself yanked in only for it to slam shut again. The bang echoed around the room loud and thunderous. 

“Get this damn door open!” Demanded Holmes the elder.

Artemis rolled down a set of uneven concrete steps, sharp corners jabbing into her skin, only for her to land with a thud. Pain should have surged through her but Artemis paid it no mind, just coughed up a little blood and tried to stand only for a foot to shove her back down. Above her stood an overly tall, very broad, black man with a shaved head and an angry looking scar that ran down though his right eye; no guesses as to who this fucker was. 

Kerberos grabbed Artemis by her throat and chucked her against the nearest wall, she felt her head smash against the bricks, her brain bounced back and forth. Artemis wasn't weak though, she didn't even blink.

“You're a Reaper!” He accused. “Traitor!” His grip around her neck tightened. “The best thing for you is death.”

With that a large Bowie knife came out and glinted in the dull light. Most would have feared such a large knife but Artemis wasn't most people. She raised her hands and brought them down fast as lightning knocking Kerberos' grip away and the fight ensued. Punches, kicks, blocks, knife swipes, all while banging went on behind the locked door. He was good with a knife, Artemis did her best to keep blocking the sharp blade but it was hard and he easily nicked her.

“You're a sharpshooter, aren't you, traitor.” He said more to himself than out of curiosity. “I saw you kill some of them, not a wasted bullet, but _this_? It's like fighting a Hebe.”

“No, a Hebe would be dead by now.” She replied emotionlessly

The raven-haired beauty didn't understand why Kerberos bothered taunting her, she didn't give any emotional response and he didn't want one either. Two feeling-less people trying to kill one another, that's all they were; not even people really. Had Artemis cared for his back story she'd have wondered if Hades had taken Kerberos as a child as well like they had with her, wondered if they'd tortured and numbed him into a perfect obedient solider; but she didn't care.

Kerberos had got years of practice, height, and the fact she was better at a distance to use against the dark-haired assassin and use it he did, didn't take him long to gain the upper hand and throw Artemis down onto a cold, hard metal table and plunged his blade deep into her body. Artemis managed to deflect him a little but the steel still sliced through her skin and into the goo-y bits behind. 

That was the moment the doors blew open with a shuddering noise that reverberated around the small room. Kerberos glanced up, just for a split second, hardly even that, but Artemis saw her chance and took it. She ripped the sharp knife from her lower abdomen and thrust it straight through the back of his neck, that he's do kindly exposed to her, and severed his brain stem. It wasn't like TV where a blade went straight in, or like when actors killed zombies and one light shove killed the brain, no, it took force and effort, one would  _feel _ the vertebrae try to stop the knife. The brainstem wasn't like butter either, more like trying to cut through an over-cooked lobster. What Artemis did wasn't for the faint of heart, that was why Hades had tried to take hers from her; most people weren't cut out for murder, especially if they could still empathize. 

The tall, black man dropped to the ground as Mycroft, Colonel Henley and the other solders rushed down the concrete steps. Artemis pushed herself up into a seated position on the now bloody table and tried to get to her feet but then the British Government was there cooing over her as much as he'd allow himself to while in the field. 

“That is a _lot _of blood.” He told her as though that would somehow get her to stay put.

She ignored him nad stood anyway, blood dripped down the bottom of her shirt and onto anything else it could. 

“British, why is it when I'm around you I'm constantly getting stabbed and shot?”

Mycroft paled at that, just for a moment before he got his mask back on, but for that moment she saw his worry and concern that he'd one day get her killed simply for being near her. Artemis didn't care, she was his bodyguard and she loved him, besides dying was easy. 

“You're seeing a field medic, now. Don't try to argue with me, Artemis.”

“I'm fine. I survived being shot, handcuffed and set on fire, remember?”

Oh the suit clad man did remember though he'd rather not have. Knowing she was chipping away at his mask in front of his men Artemis turned around and set her attention of finding those files. Clearly Mycroft didn't like her just walking around bleeding but he'd not be getting a choice, he couldn't order her like the other solders. 

Artemis' green-eyes scanned through filing cabinets in search of what she wanted and quickly found it, all the time her blood drip, drip, dripped onto the dusty floor. 

“Artemis, you're going to pass out.” The ginger shuffled closer so only she'd hear him, not that anyone else was listening; too busy packing up files. “When you're eyes flutter like that, you're going to pass out.”

The former Reaper nodded; bloody Mycroft Holmes always being right. 

“Alright, fine.”

Artemis didn't miss the look of … something that washed over his face, _relief?_ She stumbled as she made her way to the steps but Mycroft was there to catch her. Bloody had started to literally pour from her body and he couldn't help flashing back to when he'd shot her all those years ago, or when she'd been bleeding all over Sherlock's and John's sofa. He took her by the arm to steady her then – once he knew she'd not collapse – yanked a large strip of his shirt off so he could tie it around her in a desperate attempt to keep some blood on the inside. 

“Won't Savile Row be angry?” She asked quietly and Mycroft flashed her a incredulous glance. 

“You think I'd bring a suit from Savile Row to this godforsaken hell hole? Surely not. Savile Row deserves far more respect than that.” 

He kept pressure on her wound the entire way to the field medic, warm crimson stained his hand, was under his fingernails but he'd deal with that OCD irritation later, Artemis was more important.

Artemis _living _was more important.


	13. The Anger Of A Gentle Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is in reference to Patrick Rothfuss' first Kingkiller Chronicle book: The Name Of The Wind  
Extract from chapter 43  
There are three things all wise men fear:  
the sea in a storm,  
a night with no moon  
and the anger of a gentle man.  
If you haven't read the books I seriously recommend them. 
> 
> Also, sorry this chapter is so short. I know they're usually double the length but I haven't updated in a while and I wanted you all to have something to read.

Artemis didn't speak on the way back to London, couldn't have even if she'd wanted to since they'd sedated her simply to keep her from moving. Mycroft knew she'd be displeased when she woke up but he didn't care as he sat there by her side reading the files they'd found, Artemis needed the sleep. The flight back home seemed to take twice as long as the one out to Lesotho and though they brought back so many of their dead he knew had the little assassin not been with them there would have been far more casualties. 

He kept quiet during the flight, no one tried to talk to him and he made no attempt to speak with them. No doubt Henley would be sat in a corner grumbling and licking his wounds but that was something else Mycroft didn't care about. 

The British Government's blue eyes hurt but he pushed on, continued to read through mass of documents Artemis had lead them to and nearly died to get. He'd gone through what he could on the plane but had still ended up sat in his office almost a week later still reading them. Hades kept wonderful records when they were inclined to do so. 

Anyone else would have been in the hospital for ages but Artemis wasn't _anyone else_, she had no time for doctors fussing over her, not when there was work to be done. The ginger had only managed to convince her to stay in bed for all of two days before she'd gone straight back to work; she had almost been as stubborn as Sherlock. 

His flashed a look up at her from his desk and sure enough there she was over at his coffee table working on decoding some of the files they'd taken from the Hades base. Dressed in her grey shirt, black waistcoat and matching pants with her raven hair hung down around her face no one would have suspected she'd been stabbed so brutally. Artemis hadn't ever shown even the slightest hint of pain and Myc didn't know if that was something to be commended or pitied. Still, he was just impressed he'd managed to get her to rest for forty-eight hours. 

“Sir?”

His head snapped up then to see Anthea stood in the doorway to his office, her attention more on her phone than her employer as always. Slowly Artemis had gotten used to the way Anthea just showed up quietly and no longer looked ready to murder her when she appeared.

“Yes, Anthea?” Shame about all these secrets flying about Anthea's real name was so much prettier. “What is it?”

“Sir Edwin and Lady Smallwood are requesting you again in conference room four. I can always tell them no, if you want.” 

Mycroft sighed. Both Edwin and Elizabeth had tried to tear him a new one for how many men they'd lost in Lesotho but their anger had rolled off him like water off a duck's back. It would take more than some grumbling to get to a man like Mycroft Holmes. The attack had been justified and all those men knew the risks when they enlisted. 

“No, it's alright. Tell them I'm on my way. Might as well pretend to care.”

Anthea nodded. “Very good, Sir.”

Then she was gone, the sound of the door closing behind her the only indication that she'd ever been there to begin with. 

He left his head fall back so he could stare at the dark ceiling for a short time. He'd been horrified by how many files they'd discovered. Each one of those files was a child who'd been either stolen or sold. Each one a life that had been taken and destroyed. Each one the start of an innocent forced into a world of horror until they wither went numb to it or died. Frankly Mycroft wasn't sure if death or the numbing was kinder. 

Finding these children and returning as many of them as possible to their families wasn't his only mission though. Blue eyes once more flashed to Artemis who hadn't moved from her spot. His other mission was to find out which of these tortured kids was her, that was why he'd raked through them so desperately. He picked up a few of the elder files, he'd managed to narrow down where her real name would appear based off how only he thought she was but after than it was just a waiting game. Was she Lily-Marie Osborne from Kent? Evangeline Boucheron, kidnapped and sold to Hades in France? Linnea Nilsson? Her own family had sold Linnea to Hades in Sweden though Myc didn't have the first idea why. All of these little girls had suffered until Hades had turned them into blank slates better than the Hitler Youth had. 

With another deep sigh he got up from his desk and crossed the room to Artemis who glanced up at the elder man.

“You should probably stay here, Artemis.” He told her as a hand absent-mindedly raked through her long raven locks. “Lady Smallwood _really _doesn't like you.”

“I don't care.” She stated plainly.

“I know, but best not kick the hive as it were. No harm shall befall me on my way to the conformance rooms.”

She set her pen down and stood; Holmes the elder's hand fell from her hair.

“That sort of thinking is usually how people get murdered.”

Mycroft was forced to concede, she did have a point and Artemis didn't take 'no' for an answer very well. That was how he ended up with Artemis at his side as they passed down the maze of halls. Still he wondered who she really was, did her parents still live and if so could she be part of a family again? Did she have siblings just as he did? Artemis had been deprived of so much her her life that Mycroft felt the urge to give as much of it back as he could; she deserved to know what her name was at the very least. 

When he got to conference room four Artemis remained outside the glass room looking like the perfect protector she was. The British Government still found himself amazed at how much power lay inside her small frame. His eyes only left her when Elizabeth growled at him. 

“... Mycroft. You can't keep throwing our people at an unworthy cause.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “'Unworthy'? Really? Do you know how many files we now possess which Hades never intended for  _anyone _ to find. Ever wondered what happened to Ben Needham and Madeleine McCann? I have their names in the documents we brought back.” Edwin's and Lady Smallwood's faces softened. “So are you honestly going to tell me it wasn't worth it?” Mycroft peered over at Artemis' back through the glass doors. “You're scared of Artemis, that is obvious-” 

“We are not scared of _her_.” Edwin tried to insist but Myc knew the truth. 

“Yes you are and don't interrupt me.” He told the other man sternly. If they wanted to fling shit Mycroft could do just the same. “You're scared of her. You know she could kill you with nothing more than your own cufflink, that there would be nothing you could do about it and that Artemis wouldn't loose a single minute of sleep. There is just one problem. Artemis isn't evil and she is loyal to  _me_ . The other Reapers? Well their names are somewhere in those files and they went through the exact same torture until they were just as emotionally dead as she is.” The ginger pointed over at Artemis. “The only differences are that they didn't meet me, they didn't get a name or to see the world any other way than how Hades told them to see it. Those Reapers aren't evil, none of them are evil.” He paused for dramatic effect much as Sherlock often did. “But they aren't loyal to me. They are loyal to Hades. So when you go home tonight and tuck yourself up all nice and warm in bed don't fear Artemis coming for you in the darkness, fear the other uncountable number of children Hades stole, because they're adults now and they  _will _ kill you. They take lives, yes, but you need to remember their lives were taken first. If we keep doing this, keep pushing, taking Hades' hideouts, then you won't have to fear every floorboard squeak in your home at two in the morning. If we can stop Hades taking any more children we cut off their supply of new soldiers and maybe, just maybe, those kids will not grow up with men twice their age terrified of them.” 

Mycroft stood up calmly then and straightened his waistcoat before he did up the button of his perfectly tailored suit jacket. Neither Edwin nor Elizabeth spoke, just stared up at Mister Holmes like teenagers put in their place by a teacher.

“Now, if you'll excuse me I have work to do. Good day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm assuming everyone knows the case of Madeleine McCann but for those who don't know of Ben Needham, he was a 21 month old boy from Britain who disappeared from his grandparents' home on the island of Kos, Greece, and was never seen again. Many police searches were conducted but they never found anything. It is believed that a man named Konstantinos Barkas may have accidentally killed Ben with a digger while doing some excavating work after her wandered off from his grandparents' back yard. It's alleged that Barkas told a friend that he accidentally killed Ben, panicked and buried his body in building rubble; when the area was searched a toy truck that belonged to Ben was found. However, this is all speculation since Barkas died in 2015 without the police ever being able to question him.


	14. Fake Lights And The Fat Man

It had taken a ridiculous amount of time but Mycroft and Artemis had eventually managed to get a list of children kidnapped by Hades organized by country of origin, how long they'd been in Hades' grasp and how far past the point of return Artemis thought they were. A horrible list but one they needed. Anthea had kindly converted the seemingly endless stack of pages into a digitized copy for him and then locked the originals away for safe keeping. 

Much to the British Government's pleasure Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin had backed off a little since Mycroft had put them in their place since they had their own problems and issues to deal with, Artemis did actually scare them and neither could really deny that Mycroft had been right. In the end they'd not had much choice but to leave the ginger and his walking weapon to it. 

Mycroft and Artemis had stormed a couple more of Hades' bases based off of Artemis' knowledge and what had been left behind at Kerberos' HQ, but not before the pair had sat down for a very long, very in depth conversation about their end game. If this was all going to work British and the Little Assassin needed to be on the exact same page for every single second; one wrong move and they'd all be dead. 

Fall eventually turned to winter and that dreaded occasion rolled around again. Christmas. Mycroft Holmes honestly didn't like Christmas, even when he'd been a child he'd not been all that keen. Had it been like in his black and white movies maybe he'd have liked it more. Christmas didn't have any real meaning any longer beyond money and material gain. Truthfully Mycroft would have rather worked through the whole holiday period, could have got far more done for taking down Hades as well as the other things he'd been somewhat neglecting since Artemis had shown up. 

However, Mycroft didn't get what he wanted. His parents still hadn't entirely forgiven him for hiding Eurus from them – not that he really blamed them for that – so Myc couldn't turn down going to their home for Christmas. He just hoped Sherlock didn't drug him and kill someone this time. 

That was how he found himself driving down the long, well travelled, road towards his parents' house out in the middle of nowhere. He'd dressed in one of his more casual suits – not that it was casual by anyone else's standards – but that was as far as he would go, Mummy had tried a number of times to get him in a Christmas jumper but frankly he'd have rather died. Beside him sat Artemis, raven hair around her face as she read a book; the last one he possessed which she'd not read already. When he'd told her he was going to his parents' house she'd not reacted beyond asking the occasional question; when would he return, did he did a BOB packing. It was the complete lack of a reaction to the term Christmas that had made Mycroft decide to take Artemis with him. Yes, he didn't value Christmas at all anymore but she hadn't ever had one; not one she could remember anyway. She probably wouldn't care for the occasion just like him but Myc thought she had the right to experience a Christmas at least once. 

Eventually the house came into view sat amongst the quiet hills in the middle of nowhere all peaceful and quiet. As soon as he rolled the car to a stop Artemis snapped her book shut and hopped out with a set of binoculars then wandered off. Mycroft was the smarter Holmes brother, he knew exactly what she was doing; scanning the perimeter. Sure, he could have asked the green-eyed goddess not to but he knew that this was her job and honestly what harm could it do? 

Quietly Mycroft got out the car and went to grab their bags from the trunk His had simple needs, clothes bag, briefcase and laptop bag. Artemis however … he didn't want to think about the things she'd packed. Mycroft has specifically told her to only bring the bare essentials having completely forgotten that while toothpaste and underwear seemed essential to him, high powered weapons were essential to her. 

When he glanced up again Artemis had completely vanished from sight but Myc wasn't worried. It would snow soon, probably had already started in London, he could tell by the bite in the air. He carried their things towards the house and was about half way up the path when the front door opened and Watson poured out to help the taller man. 

“Thank you, Doctor Watson.” Said Mycroft in his usual tone as some of the weight was lifted from him. 

“No problem.” He replied as they continued towards the house. “Sherlock and I got here a little early so Rosie could have her nap on time. Your Mum is making a fresh pot of tea.”

Once inside Mycroft cast his blue eyes into the kitchen to see his mother making tea just as the gray-haired man had said. As soon as she spotted her eldest she rushed across the kitchen and pulled him into a hug he could have done without while Watson carried on upstairs with some of the bags. 

“I wondered when you'd show up, Myc.” Grinned his mother as she finally released him from her clutches. 

“Mycroft, Mother, my name is Mycroft.” Only Lestrade got to call him 'Myc' and for the life of him Mycroft couldn't quite figure out why. 

Free of his mother the British Government trailed after Watson upstairs and into his bedroom just as Watson exited.

“You planning on staying a month, Mycroft?” John quipped with a teasing smile. “You brought a lot of stuff.” 

“One can never be too prepared, surely you know that.” 

John didn't answer, just left the room and headed back downstairs. Mycroft looked around the room for a few short moments. He'd spent the first part of his life in that room – after Musgrave had burnt to the ground anyway – until he'd blissfully been sent to boarding school. It hadn't changed much in that time either, what did his parents think would happen? He'd suddenly be ten again? Christ no! Any age under twenty-two was not acceptable to Holmes the elder. 

Mycroft set all the bags in a neat row against the wall where they'd not bother his OCD all that much then made his way back down the narrow stairs and through into the lounge where everyone had gathered. Sherlock sat reading a newspaper by the roaring fire while Mummy sipped at her tea in the opposite armchair and Watson helped himself to some tea before he settled on the arm of Sherlock's chair. The two shared a kiss that went unnoticed by everyone. It took Mycroft a moment to pay his father any mind but when he did he saw the elder man staring out the window with a puzzled expression. 

“Are you alright, Father?” Asked the suit clad man as he approached the window.

“Myc, dear, weren't you supposed to be bringing a girlfriend?” She asked before her husband could say a word. “Oh, a girlfriend, I'm so happy. You're father was sure you were gay what with all those boys at school but I told him – didn't I, Siger, I told him you liked girls as well.” 

Mycroft cringed and curled in on himself internally while Sherlock chuckled from behind his newspaper. He'd not been there five minutes and already his mother had decided to make his life an awkward pool of goo. 

“Yes, brother, how did you convince her to have sex with you?”

Sherlock's comment quickly got a stern glare from both Watson and Missus Holmes which had Sherlock returning to his paper lest he face an angry mother.

Mycroft looked to his father in desperation for the man to say something, move the subject along, save him! The white-haired man must have taken pity on his eldest because soon he was speaking. 

“There's a girl in the back yard with a pair of binoculars. Think she's looking at the hills or something. She just popped up out of nowhere like a ghost.”

Sure enough when Mycroft peered out the window there was Artemis standing with her back to the house looking out over the area. 

Watson appeared beside him. “Is she doing a perimeter check?” He asked with a raised eyebrow and Mycroft nodded. 

“She must be cold.” Siger continued seemingly unaware of a word Watson had said.

Artemis had only put on a thin white shirt and skin-tight, black jeans that day despite the growing cold. Myc had thought about asking her to put a coat on but knew it wouldn't have been worth the blank expression he got. Also, Mycroft would have been lying had he said he'd not noticed the way the jeans clung to her backside like a second skin. 

Quietly he slipped out the lounge and out into the back yard where he approached the assassin. For a split second he'd thought she'd not noticed him coming but then she started to talk and the ginger realized just how stupid that notion had been.

“You're family is staring at me.” Was all Artemis said.

She'd never turned around but the suit clad man guessed that he shouldn't have been surprised that she knew when she was being watched. Still he continued to wards his girl and took the binoculars from her hands softly which made her look at him with those polished emeralds of hers. 

“They were, yes.” Mycroft set the binoculars down on the wall then tugged his suit jacket off and slipped it around her shoulders. “Just take it, they think you're going to freeze to death if you stay out here too much longer.” 

“I don't notice the cold.” Came her simple answer.

The tall man nodded. “I know but that doesn't negate the fact you can actually catch a chill.” He grabbed the binoculars from where he'd left them. “Are you about done?”

The beautiful young woman nodded. “Yes.”

Together they went back inside and Myc left the binoculars on a table by the stairs where they'd probably go unnoticed before he guided his girl to the living room to meet his parents; a situation he suddenly regretted putting her in. 

“I warn you,” Mycroft began as he reached for the living room door, “my father is a hugger, please do not kill him.” Artemis simply nodded in understanding.

He pushed the door open and stepped aside like the perfect gentleman so Artemis could enter first where all eyes flicked up to her save for a disinterested Sherlock.

Mycroft cleared his throat as his parents looked Artemis up and down, clearly they'd expected her to be a little older. In all honesty Myc had true idea how old she was, she could have easily passed for as young as twenty-three. 

“Mother, Father, this is Artemis.” He stated calmly. “Artemis, these are my parents.”

Missus Holmes set aside her tea and shot up from her arm chair faster than a woman her age should have been able. A big grin dominated her face as she looked the former Reaper up and down. Artemis looked small and innocent wrapped in the British Government's suit jacket. 

“Oh, she's beautiful, Myc.” 

“Madalena's right.” The white-haired man smiled as he crossed the room. “Very beautiful.”

He pulled his son's girlfriend into a hug then, Artemis tensed but didn't attack and Mycroft knew it went against every instinct she had. The _how old is this girl_ look he got from both his parents didn't pass him by either. When Siger Holmes backed away from the assassin he seemed a little dejected but hid it well for the most part.

“Not a hugger then.” He muttered quietly to himself. 

Watson lingered in the background with Sherlock, the pair sharing the armchair while they watched the display before them as though it were some kind of community theatre. That urge to have stayed in London returned to Mycroft's bones but it was too late now. 

“Would you like some tea, dear?” Missus Holmes asked sweetly as she headed over to the still steaming teapot.

Artemis accepted politely but the suit clad man suspected it was more for his benefit than because she actually wanted any tea. Sensing his escape, Mycroft rounded his father and went to sit on the rarely used chaise lounge.

The raven-haired beauty accepted her tea from the shorter woman as she contemplated the tree all lit up with red, blue and green. It was plain to see in her eyes that the whole thing seemed alien to her. 

“Why have you brought a tree into your house?” She asked eventually with a genuine tone.

Siger and Madalena flashed one another a glance with confused eyebrows before she answered the unusual question. 

“It's a Christmas tree, dear. They're tradition.”

Artemis nodded somewhat robotically. “Yes, the thing with fake lights and the fat man.”

The Holmes parents shared that look again as Artemis went to sit beside Mycroft with her tea. As soon as she was seated she snuggled herself a little into his side. Mycroft was pleased she did because her skin was ice cold even if she didn't notice it. For a moment he fantasized that there was a part of her that registered the cold, that she did feel it and purposely came to him for comfort and warmth; a silly fantasy. 

“You forgot the biscuits again, Mother.” Grumbled Shelock as he crumbled his paper rather than folding it and shoved it off to his side dangerously close to the fire. 

“Sorry, dear, but, you know, I was doing everything else as well. You could always help.”

She went to stand only for John to stop her with a smile and offer to go instead much to her gratitude; 'such a kind boy' said softly as thanks.

He got about half way to the living room door when he paused and turned back to Artemis. Every time he saw her Watson thanked God that none of the horror she had suffered Rosie would be forced to suffer. The doctor couldn't help but wonder if her mother and father had mourned her, had screamed and pleaded for their beloved little girl back. John couldn't imagine the pain and he never wanted to.

“Artemis, would you give me a hand?” He asked the girl who hadn't taken a single sip of her tea.

The raven-haired beauty looked to Mycroft who nodded easily and then she turned those green eyes back to John. 

“Yes.” That one simple word was all he got before she followed him out to the kitchen.

Mycroft sat there less than a second before the looks started, the expectant stare from his mother while his father's was a much more sorrowful expression. The suit clad man just kept staring into the fire between his brother and Mummy. Siger came close to his eldest child and took a breath before he spoke in a somewhat vacillated tone. 

“Son,” the white-haired man was careful to keep his voice gentle and hushed, “what happened to that girl?”

Myc glanced up to meet his father's concerned gaze and let out a long breath. “Horrors like you wouldn't believe, Father. Horrors like you wouldn't believe.” 

Missus Holmes still stared at her son expectantly, after all the lies about Eurus, faking Sherlock's death and everything else she really wasn't in the mood for Mycroft's 'it's classified' bullshit; her brother-in-law, Rudy, had pulled that as well and she'd had just about enough of it. Mycroft knew he wouldn't be getting out of it and sighed;  _maybe bringing her here was a bad idea. _

It took the tall man a few moments to begin, had to make sure he told her only what she could hear without him breaking any of the government rules he knew so well. Also, he didn't want them to know everything in case Artemis wanted her past to be a secret;  _probably wouldn't care_. Another sigh, that had become a habit since walking into his parents' house.

“Artemis was abducted as a child.” Both Mister and Missus Holmes let their eyes go wide. “They tortured, abused and … _disfigured_ her.” Siger perched on the chair arm beside his wife with a horrified look on his face. “Because of that Artemis doesn't know how to express emotions and hardly registers things like happiness, sadness, the cold.”

While his father soaked everything up and his concern for his son's girlfriend grew Missus Holmes found her brow had furrowed.

“But we all saw her, she was cuddled against you. I was amazed, you hardly let anyone touch you, even me and I'm your mother.” 

None of the Holmes children had ever been that fond of touch.

Myc nodded. “She did, yes. Artemis does still have the ability to feel though not very well, almost like a loose wire, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. She feels most strongly when I am present however.” He paused a moment to think, Sherlock still sipped at his tea but wasn't paying attention; clearly in his mind palace. “I ask that you don't tip-toe around her because Artemis won't understand it. Also, if you could please refrain from touching her.” He directed the request to his father. “Please don't think Artemis rude or hostile, she doesn't mean to be and don't confuse her with Eurus. She _can _feel and she does understand the consequences of her actions.”

Missus Holmes sighed as she finished the last of her tea and set the cup aside. “So she's an adolescent you with a dash of Sherlock thrown in. Perfect. We've survived that before.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. All he'd just said to his parents and yet that was his mother's first comment? Seriously? At least his parents seemed to have taken the information on board without too much of an issue. Sherlock had been quite a problematic child – and a problematic every other stage of his life – so as long as they remembered not to do anything that could be deemed a threat to Mycroft they should have been fine. 

“Son?”

The suit clad man flashed his eyes to his father. “Yes, Father?”

“You didn't bring her so as we'd meet your girlfriend, did you, so why bring her?”

There wasn't any bite in the elder Holmes' question, just a want to understand. His father had always been the kind one, the gentle one, the _normal _one.

“... She didn't know what a Christmas tree was.” Mycroft told them in a hushed voice, a tone that was very unlike him. 

Missus Holmes said nothing, just nodded to herself, but his father stood and crossed the small living room to his eldest child. He rested a hand on Mycroft's shoulder and Myc felt a rush of comfort shoot though the small touch. 

“You're a good man, son.”

Before the British Government could figure out what his father had truly meant or why he'd said it the door opened and Watson walked in with a rather large selection of biscuits and small cakes, Artemis followed a few steps behind with a stack of plates for them all. With the sombre situation clearly dealt with and over the white-haired Holmes hummed in delight and headed straight for the plate of cake and biscuits that Watson set down beside the teapot, he took a plate from Artemis and started to help himself. John did much the same for himself and Sherlock – who only left his mind palace when the doctor came close – while Mycroft stared out the window to where Artemis had been after they'd first arrived. He wondered if she belonged out there or inside with him, would she ever truly have a personality beyond the one that twinkled though the dark when she was with him? A lighthouse in a storm, that was what she'd called him. The question was, would he guide her in to harbor safely or would he leave her crashed on the rocks? 

She sat down beside him then and jolted the ginger from his inner thoughts before he got too deep. When he turned to her he found a small plate with a brownie atop it held out for him and his mouth salivated; he'd gotten his sweet tooth from his father. 

“No, thank you, Artemis, I'm fine.” He assured her but the plate only got shoved out a little closer.

“Salted caramel is your favorite and you haven't consumed anything that isn't tea for sixteen hours.” Artemis pointed out in a level voice.

Missus Holmes chortled. “Oh, I'm so glad to see you finally have someone making sure you eat. You're too thin, Myc.” 

“_Mycroft_, Mother.” Good God had she forgotten the name on his birth certificate?

“Think he needs to eat less.” Teased Sherlock as he finished a chocolate cookie John had sat under his nose. “That waistcoat has been resized again. More time on the treadmill, Mycroft.” 

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes, be nice to your brother!” Their mother scolded which just got a muffled grumble from her curly haired son before he returned to his mind palace in spite. 

“Actually that was for me,” Artemis started, “I needed him to carry an extra mag-”

“Artemis.” Mycroft cut her off in warning, and her mouth snapped shut. His parents didn't need to know how many guns she'd brought into their house or that he carried around extra bullets and magazines for her.

Silence lingered for a moment before the eldest Mister Holmes drew their attention and tried to keep the conversation going.

“So, Artemis, tell us a little bit about yourself.” 

She just looked blankly at the white-haired man for a short time, she'd never had the 'tell us about yourself' conversation before, and from the simple fact she'd not started with 'I kill people' Mycroft suspected she knew it wasn't a good idea.

Eventually she settled on a piece of information both truthful and that didn't involve killing or blood.

“I read a lot of books. I've gone through British's library.”

Missus Holmes smiled. “Well you're more than welcome to read any of the books we have here.” She said as she gestured towards the shelve over in the corner.

“Thank you, Missus Holmes.” Though polite the words had no emotion to them.

As Myc continued to sit there and eat his salted caramel brownie while his parents tried to bleed titbits from the stone that was his beautiful Artemis, he wondered if they'd noticed the ever present scarf around her wrist, if they'd questioned why she'd got it on her wrist rather than around her neck when she'd been outside, why it was so old but clearly cared for. Sherlock and Doctor Watson already knew the answer of course but his parents didn't. 

“And what is it you do for a living?” Asked Missus Holmes curiously which had Mycroft's mind snap back. 

“I am Mycroft's personal bodyguard.” 

Missus Holmes raised a puzzled eyebrow. “Bodyguard? Myc, do you need a bodyguard now? What sort of work are you doing for the government?” 

“Yes, Artemis is my bodyguard but it's just a precaution.” _As well as a way of keeping her out a cell. _“Nothing to worry about.”

His parents didn't seem convinced but Artemis gave off a 'don't fuck with her vibe' so they assumed she'd keep their son safe. Once again it was left up to Siger to keep the conversation going.

“And what else do you do? Have any other hobbies or-” Missus Holmes cut her husband off.

“Speak any languages? We couldn't ever get on with them much ourselves, could we Siger, but Sherlock here speaks six and Mycroft is up to eight.” 

Oh, bless their parents for trying.

“Ten.” He corrected before taking a bite of his brownie, had others not been around he'd have hummed in delight.

“Yes.” Artemis nodded curtly to answer their question then went silent again. After a few moments of expectant glances and quietude she turned to face Mycroft uncertainly. “More detail?” She asked. 

The suit clad man nodded. “Yes, more detail.”

With his confirmation Artemis turned her green eyes back to Mister and Missus Holmes. They'd get her to be more conversational eventually. 

“Yes, I speak more than English. I currently speak thirty-nine languages.” 

John's eyebrows shot up. “Thirty-nine? That's incredible.”

Myc hummed in agreement. “Artemis has always had an aptitude for languages similar to your skill with mathematics, Mother.” 

Everything changed then in a matter of a single note. Rosie started to scream and wail from upstairs which had Watson and his lover heading up stairs quickly to calm her down while Missus Holmes took the opportunity to go get Christmas Eve dinner started.

In a way Mycroft was pleased for the end to the conversation, he felt as though they'd pushed Artemis far enough for one day. She'd done her best and her boyfriend was proud of her;  _damn I still need to get used to that word. _


	15. Down In The City Below

By midnight everyone at the Holmes' residence had retired for the night much to Sherlock's chagrin. Snow had started to fall lightly not long after the sun had set and by morning there would undoubtedly be a gentle layer of powdery snow upon the ground like one of those silly Christmas cards Mister and Missus Holmes insisted on sending to their sons. The moonlight reflecting off the snowy ground kept Mycroft's childhood bedroom lit in a strange way, supernatural and unique. 

Artemis sat in bed wearing far too few layers for the weather outside, a book forgotten in her lap while she watched Mycroft change for bed. Green eyes watched on as he carefully removed each article of clothing and neatly folded it before tucking it away; just another quirk of his OCD. He'd seen one girl back at university who'd acted as though it had been an STD, like she'd somehow catch his obsessive compulsive nature if he so much as sneezed in her general vicinity. As one could imagine their relationship hadn't lasted all that long. Artemis though didn't care in the slightest, she'd noticed it straight off the bat and Mycroft couldn't quite figure out if it didn't bother her because she'd been trained not to care or if she just saw it as part of what made Mycroft himself. Maybe it didn't matter. 

Dinner had been awkward for the British Government. His parents had run out of innocent questions for Artemis pretty quickly and since they hadn't been able to ask about her parents, where she'd grown up or anything else along those lines they'd settled for quizzing her on how Mycroft treated her what with them being both a couple and colleagues. Sherlock – the bastard – had enjoyed that topic greatly until their father had taken pity on his eldest and moved the subject along to Sherlock's relationship with Doctor Watson. The white-haired man had always been the generous one. The subject change had been a God send for Mycroft's. 

Artemis hadn't really spoken during dinner, not that the ginger had really expected anything different; his beloved wasn't exactly chatty. His father though, Siger, had been the one to crack the former Reaper. After dinner they'd returned to the living room for coffee, that was where the eldest Holmes man had raised the subject of literature with her. He'd taken note of Artemis' interest in books and had managed to get the assassin into a pretty detailed conversation. Mycroft had mentally thanked his father for that. While her opinions hadn't really had any emotional backing they were logical, thought about and well argued. That had eased his parents' thoughts and unease about Artemis. Mycroft had been able to tell they'd likened her to Eurus even though he'd asked them not to. 

“You're going down the Rabbit Hole, British.”

Mycroft's mind snapped back to him and he realized he'd just been stood there with his fingers at the buttons of his blue nightshirt. He blinked rapidly to fully bring the world back to him before he finished on his buttons and slipped under the covers with his young beauty. 

“Forgive me.”

“You want to go back to London, don't you.” It wasn't a question; she knew him well.

Mycroft sighed. “We do have a secret organization to end.” 

Artemis nodded in agreement. “They will still be there when we return. Hades doesn't break for the holidays.”

“Yes,” the elder man hummed, “that's what concerns me, Little Assassin.”

He let his head fall back against the headboard while Artemis closed her book and set it aside. She didn't slip a bookmark in or dog-ear the page, no, Artemis could memorize an entire building lay out down to where the janitor kept his secret stash of bourbon, she didn't need a reminder of her page. Just as well, Mycroft hated it when people folded down pages of books.

Artemis shuffled across the bed and wrapped an arm around his waist while she rested her head on his chest. She didn't do it to seek his comfort exactly, more so because she knew her presence comforted _him_. Mycroft couldn't help raking long fingers through her soft, black locks. 

“Are you sure it will work?”

“You're asking me? You're the great Mycroft Holmes, the Iceman, the British Government, you're the one with all the answers.” 

He let out a noise somewhere between a grumble a hum. “I may be the brains but, as you like to keep pointing out, _you _are the brawn and you know Hades better than anyone else. So, I ask again. Do _you_ think this will work?”

Artemis didn't even need a single second to think about it. “Yes. If I didn't then I'd have said something when we came up with it.”

Mycroft relaxed a little at that; enjoyed the encouragement and confidence she had. 

He found it strange that snow fell outside, the last time snow feel and the two were together she'd tried to kill him. It had been cold back in that cabin, stormy and violent, now though the snow settled softly like a feather and Artemis had cuddled up against him. Funny how things could change so completely. 

They lay there together in silence a long time, the sound of Sherlock grumbling at John about something drifted through the wall. Mycroft honestly hadn't ever expected this, laying in his childhood bed on Christmas Eve with the most beautiful – and dangerous – woman he'd ever met cuddled against him. Odd how things could still surprise a man like Mycroft Holmes. He closed his eyes then and let himself descend into the noir city within his mind, all black and seemingly endless. Down the long roads he went in search of his prize, round corners and down a flight of stairs into the subway. It was darker down their than the rest of his mind city, silvery. Along the tracks he went careful to avoid the third rail. Into the darkness, into the depths. Eventually he reached a little maintenance tunnel so tucked out of the way that Mycroft himself nearly missed it. Small sconces lit the brick walls, so different to the rest of his noir city. Mycroft walked along, the sound of his footfalls echoed around him and slowly the dusty ground beneath him started to litter with snow, but he didn't stop or even glance down. Finally the suit clad man came to a stop outside an old wooden door that powdery white slowly drifted out from under. 

Mycroft hadn't meant to lock her away in the darkest depths of his mind, he'd been keeping her safe, even in his brain. He'd not been to this section of his city since he'd built it all those years before. He'd walked passed the subway stairs many times and always glanced down them but never set foot into the cold, darkness. 

Finally he pushed the rickety door open and stepped inside the cabin only to close it softly behind himself. He looked over to the small window tucked in a corner to see the blizzard raging on outside; the blizzard never stopped here. Then he turned his attention to the metal framed sofa with the same green, stained cessions he remembered. There sat Artemis, both Artemis' in fact, the elder, beautiful woman he knew and the teenager who'd refused to kill him.

“We wondered when you'd come to see us.” Said the elder one; her eyes twinkled in the light coming from the fireplace.

“Which one of us is it you want to talk to?” Asked the younger.

Mycroft sighed and said nothing a moment while the two versions of his assassin watched him intently. 

“The younger one.” He finally told them and in an instant the elder Artemis vanished.

The ginger dropped down onto the couch where the elder woman had been two seconds before and the younger tilted her head towards him as she simply waited for him to speak. Her clothes were covered in blood where he'd shot her fourteen years previous and a set of handcuffs hung loosely from her right wrist. 

“Go on, _Simon._” She encouraged as the weather raged on. “Why are we here?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow and glanced over to the door. Neither Artemis left this room and even if they could they'd be stuck in a disused subway surrounded by darkness and dust. The only reason the elder version of his girl had disappeared was because this was his mind and he made the rules. 

“Down here?” He spoke slowly in a well annunciated voice. “Because-” 

The teenager cut him off instantly. “No. We know why you keep us in a subway.” She told him without a single hint of emotion or personality in her tone. “You tell yourself it is to keep us safe like someone could break into your head when you weren't looking and steal us from you. That isn't true though, British, it's never been true. You keep us down here to hide us from yourself, so we don't distract you. You hide us away from yourself because you know, deep down, that we are the things you'd watch your precious England burn to ash in order to protect. We're down here because you're ashamed that you would turn your back on your nation for an unfeeling murderer like us.” Mycroft just stared at the teenager knowing she spoke the truth. “The real Artemis told you long ago, didn't she. 'Preferring something leads to liking and liking leads to emotions which then sparks emotional connections that are little more than distractions and weaknesses'.”

Mycroft breathed out a half-hearted laugh. “Am I that obvious?”

“We aren't real, British, we're just the copies you made for your head. We are you more than Artemis so you can't hide your secrets.”

He cupped her cheek then, she felt cold like she'd been out in the blizzard and the teenager smelt faintly of iron from her blood stained clothes.

“I love you.”

“We know.” Came her steady response. “Perhaps the first time you say that shouldn't be to the fake replica of us inside your head.” 

Mycroft thought a moment, had he honestly never told Artemis he loved her? No, he hadn't. They'd spoken inside the Stranger's Room where she'd admitted she loved him but the words 'I love you' hadn't ever left his lips. Suddenly Mycroft found himself cursing himself for that. 

“Why are you here, British?” The young Artemis asked again. “Shouldn't you be out there in the real world with the real one of us?”

“... I-” Oh Mycroft hadn't ever struggled for words before. “I found something and I need to know how the real you will react.”

Young Artemis' head cocked to the side expectantly. “Then why not speak with the adult one?”

“I suppose because you're closer to the age that the matter pertains to.” Said Mycroft as he pulled the teenager to sit in his lap. “I believe I have found your file. That I know who you are. Your name, your nationality, your family. I needed to see how you would react.” 

“If you expect us to react with any sense of emotion then you clearly don't know us, British.”

Silence. Silence hung between Mycroft and the teenager inside his head. This had been a subject he'd been thinking about semi-constantly since he'd stumbled across that file. At first he'd just thought it the same as any other file but no, those eyes, that hair, even as a three year old he'd known that face. Then there was the numbers Mycroft so hated,  _132601, _ at the top of the document, the numbers that had removed any doubt. With her sat in his lap Mycroft lifted her hair to see the offending digits and sure enough there they were in her hairline. 

“Do you think I should actually tell you? You have a right to know but … you'll see just how much was stolen from you and how violently.” 

“You're a smart man, Mycroft Holmes, figure it out.” A pause, hardly there. “And do stop hiding down here. We didn't take you for a coward.” 

“No, we did not.”

Mycroft's head snapped up like a flash of lightning, sudden and sharp, to see the elder Artemis stood by the cabin door loading the magazine for her Ruger. The younger climbed out of his lap but stopped stood before him, her polished emeralds looked him up and down for a moment before she bent and pressed a light kiss to his lips. 

“Go on, British. We'd tell you how to escape this time but we think you already know.”

He nodded. At least he'd not have to run through all that snow again. With a deep sigh Mycroft rose to his feet and went to the door which he half tugged open before he paused and peered at the elder Artemis. 

“I _do _love you. I'm just not very good at saying it.” He admitted.

The elder Artemis regarded him a second before repeating exactly what the younger version of her had said. “We know.”

Then he was gone. Back down the small tunnel, past the third rail, up the stairs onto the noire city streets and out into the real world. Mycroft blinked rapidly and found himself sat in bed though instead of Artemis being beside him he was alone. A small piece of paper rested in his lap besides his hand that he lifted quickly. 

_Perimeter check_

Those two words were all that adorned the paper in Artemis' neat handwriting. Then again, those two words got the message across perfectly, Artemis would have deemed more a waste of time. 

The British Government threw off the bed sheets and stepped out of bed, his hissed when he felt just how cold the floorboards were but didn't let it stop him. He left his room and headed down the hall, past Sherlock's room and to the stairs which he descended quickly. He'd intended to go in search of Artemis but the second his foot hit the ground floor he found himself pinned up against the wall with glinting metal at his throat. It took the elder man a moment to process what had happened, Artemis had a knife to his throat.

“I'm not an enemy combatant, Little Assassin.” He told her with a soft smile.

The silvery blade left his throat and the harsh force that kept him against the wall released. Mycroft watched while she folded the lock knife back into its less stabby form and slipped it back into her boot; the only spot for it to go since all she wore was a white t-shirt and a blue pair of sleep shorts. Mycroft didn't quite know what possessed him, he'd never been one for public displays of affection, but stood at the bottom of the stairs in the early hours of the morning probably didn't count as public. He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her to his lean chest.

“Artemis, you really must start wearing a coat when you go outside.” He insisted while trying to warm her icy skin. “You're freezing cold.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. I know you don't notice the cold but that doesn't negate you from catching your death.”

Mycroft kissed her then, pressed his lips to the raven-haired beauty in his arms while his warmth soothed the chill in her skin. 'Perhaps the first time you say that shouldn't be to the fake replica of us inside your head' that was what the young Artemis inside his head had told him. With that in mind Mycroft pulled her closer. 

“I love you, my Little Assassin.”

Those emeralds twinkled up at him in the silvery, snow lit night. The former Reaper looked a him in a way he'd not seen since he'd named her all those moons ago, the expression she'd had when her first twinkle of personality had flickered through. 

“I love you too, British.”

Mycroft smiled as his heart soared and swelled with happiness, resigned to walking the world alone no more. Before he knew it he was back against the all at the bottom of the stairs though this time for a much more primal reason. With a show of strength few knew Mycroft had he lifted Artemis up off the floor and pressed her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his hips as her arms did the same at his neck. 

Oh so carefully he carried her up the stairs and back to their bedroom more than willing to feel whatever emotions they were capable of together. Neither government official nor trained killer noticed John Watson stick his head out of his and Sherlock's room, or the little smile he flashed down the hallway before he returned to his sleeping lover in their bed and his young daughter. Sherlock would have sneered in disgust at such a sight but John didn't, why shouldn't Mycroft have been happy?


	16. Around A Table

When Mycroft awoke it was to a brightly lit bedroom; probably due to the sun bouncing off smooth, settled snow. When his blue orbs peered down at Artemis who was cuddled against him, he was amazed to find her still asleep. Amazed because that  _never_ happened, part of her training had been to be a light sleeper and normally the change in his breathing was enough to wake her up. He hadn't had the fortune to see this before, her peaceful sleeping face, Mycroft had seen her unconscious sure but that wasn't the same. There nestled against him Artemis appeared almost happy. He raised a hand to brush away a stray lock of hair from her forehead only to have his wrist harshly grabbed lightning quick. The elder man refused to wince. 

“Morning, Little Assassin.”

Artemis released him from her harsh grip, and not a moment too soon, as she opened her eyes and sat up uncaring that the covers fell to reveal her naked breasts. 

“Morning, British.”

She stretched almost obscenely and Mycroft took the opportunity to grab her by the waist and pull the former Reaper back a little so he could kiss the back of her neck and shoulder. Mycroft hadn't ever really been a tactile person – none of the Holmes children had – but Artemis just looked so innocent and perfect in that moment. Her skin was warm, soft and smelt slightly of last night's sex. The raven-haired beauty leant back against his skinny chest and let him do as he pleased with her. 

The British Government made slow, teasing work of kissing down her neck after he'd brushed away her hair, then down her shoulder and over her left scapula, not shocked at all by the scars he found there. Some were tiny and hardly noticeable unless up close, but others were larger, raised or jagged. The clear burn scars were the ones he hated the most, hated knowing someone had either tied her up or held her down so they could mark her skin with red-hot metal. Mycroft didn't want to think about how and why Hades had done the things they had to her. 

“What happens today?” She asked then and Mycroft's lips finally left her skin. 

He sighed, _ah yes, it's Christmas. _“Well, breakfast, then Mother and Father will insist we go on a morning walk, yes, I know it's snowing. Afterwards Mother will start on dinner while we read or play chess. When we were children they hid candy canes and made us hunt for them, unfortunately I was _very _good at it. Next will be presents, the Queen's speech and finally Christmas dinner.” 

It had been the same for so many years that Mycroft could practically time each activity down to the minute. 

“You saw the Queen last week.”

Mycroft chuckled at her deadpan comment. “Yes, but the Speech is tradition … same with that blasted walk through the snow.” 

“I'm starting to believe that 'tradition' just means unnecessary.”

Mycroft shrugged. “Perhaps.” In one smooth motion – and with more strength than people normally attributed to him – Mycroft pulled Artemis into his lap where her perfect backside tempted his manhood. “My little minx.” Suddenly she was out of his grasp and Mycroft felt his head slam down against the pillows. Sometimes he honestly wondered if she could teleport. “Or maybe homicidal maniac is more apt.” He teased. 

Artemis shrugged, she didn't much care what her label ended up being.  Then he felt the warmth of her mouth envelop his quickly hardening length. Mycroft gasped loudly and fisted the sheets until his fingertips turned white.  _Fuck, she's good at this. _ The older man's hips jolted up without his permission as a deep, guttural groan escaped his parted lips. Myc managed to release his grip on the duvet – at least with his right hand he did – and snared his fingers into Artemis' long, dark locks; the British Government had meant to just hold her there but his traitorous body had him jerk her head back to a better angle. For a split second he chastised himself, thought he'd hurt her but then shuffled closer and hummed as her hands grasped his thighs. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

Normally he did everything he could to not swear, to have some decorum and tact, be well-mannered and polite, but this dangerous woman and her mouth could pull any damn word she wanted out of him.

Mycroft's head fell back against the pillows as his grip in her hair tightened. So close. Almost. He was always so perfectly put together but there and then with Artemis' mouth wrapped around him and her hand cupping his balls he looked a wreck, a pile of want and need; no wonder people thought women could control a man so easily. 

A deep moan left the back of his throat, deeper than he'd known himself capable of, when she sped up. The former Reaper alternated between long sucks and strokes of her hand punctuated by Artemis swirling her tongue around the head. She heard the noises he made and actually felt something, it wasn't sexual no, far more confusing than that, this was something else, something in her chest. Pride maybe. Mycroft made the noises because of what she was doing to him, all for her,  _because_ of her. She made him feel pleasure. Maybe pride wasn't quite right. Artemis' head bobbed as her nails dug into his thighs hungrily. Suddenly his hips bucked again, she could see how hard he tried to resist thrusting into her mouth. The older man was so close and Artemis threw every ounce of passion she had into her movements, when his hips started to buck uncontrollably the assassin was forced to hold them in place until finally he came. 

“Ah! Artemis!” He whimpered.

Pleasure erupted behind Mycroft's closed blue eyes as his release came, her name on his lips, gasped out almost as though he were dying. The British Government didn't deserve Artemis, he'd taken an already damaged little girl and had sex with her, shot her and left her to die in a fire, but Mycroft couldn't let her go, not now. He always kept his cards so close to his chest but he'd have jets paint it in the sky if she wanted, he loved her. 

He lay there limply as he came down from his high. Artemis slipped up his slender body and settled with her head against his chest. She didn't pant despite never having come up for air.

“I don't want to know why you can hold your breath that long, do I?” He asked half-heartedly.

Artemis shook her head. “Probably not, no.”

Mycroft knew it wouldn't be true but he preferred to think it was due to being forcibly submerged in a vat of water so she could last without air … that was actually the nicer of the options he'd come up with. 

The sound of a kettle whistling downstairs drew the pair out of their thoughts then and Mycroft sighed. 

“That will be mother starting breakfast. We had better get dressed and head downstairs.”

The elder man pressed a light kiss to Artemis forehead then she rose from the bed to get dressed, Myc couldn't help it, he admired her beauty as she went in search of clothes. He got out of the mess of sheets to do the same but when he cast her a glance a few moments later to see all she'd gotten out was a thin t-shirt and a pair of jeans he rolled his eyes. There was snow outside, she couldn't wander around in it, well, she could but it wasn't healthy. Once he'd finished closing the buttons of his dress shirt he fished through the drawer to find his olive colored sweater and handed it over to his bodyguard after she'd tied her boots up. She just stared at him a moment completely blankly. 

“Please put it on, Artemis.” He implored. “You really will catch your death if you carry on like this.”

“Death knows better than to come after me.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow because, quite frankly, if anyone could kill Death it would be Artemis. Still, he was pleased when she took the offered sweater and slipped it on. The sweater was much too big for her what Myc being so damn tall but he liked the jumper on her, it brought out her eyes and the way the sleeves hung down half over her hands made it look cosy and warm. Then there was the way it was too big everywhere except the chest, Mycroft wouldn't ever admit it but he greatly enjoyed that. Of course, at the top of it all was that she was wrapped up in his clothes, something that smelt of him, it filled the ginger with a masculine pride he'd never paid much attention to before. Carefully Artemis rolled up one sleeve to tie the scarf she always wore around her wrist, it was funny the way the other sleeve contained to dangle. 

“You're staring at me, British.” She accused without looking up.

Mycroft returned to getting dressed, slipped on his waistcoat and made himself look as immaculately well put together as always. 

“Forgive me, but you are a sight to behold.” Okay, that sounded corny and old fashioned even for him.

Artemis ignored his comment in favor of gathering the information she needed. “How far is this morning walk? Ten, fifteen miles?”

Mycroft did a double take while Artemis tied her raven hair up into a high ponytail. He'd not walked that far in one go since the first time they'd met.

“Good heavens no. These are my parents not soldiers, Artemis.”

She nodded to herself. “And you have an aversion to snow ever since I flattened your face in it.” 

He let out a displeased hum and then the pair finished getting dressed for the day. Christmas day. They finally headed downstairs, guided by the smell of food cooking and fresh coffee. Everyone had already gathered in the kitchen, Sherlock already sat at the kitchen table sipping his morning tea with his father beside him while Watson cooed over little Rosie and tried to convince her to eat her breakfast. Mycroft's mother however, stood by the oven piling food onto plates as though her family had been starved. As soon as the British Government entered the kitchen he made a bee-line for the tea pot while Artemis loitered in the doorway as though she didn't belong, taking pity on her he got her a cup of coffee and slowly guided her to take a seat. 

When Missus Holmes turned around to set plates down she grinned at the sight of Artemis all wrapped up in one of Mycroft's sweaters. She looked utterly adorable. 

“Aww, look at you, dear. Myc, let her keep that, it really brings out her eyes.” 

Sherlock snorted to himself from behind his tea cup. “Mmm, certainly detracts from the blood normally dripping off her.” 

“Blood?” Mister Holmes' white eyebrows shot up.

Mycroft glared at his brother in that warning way of his. Couldn't Sherlock give it a rest for just one day? Just one! 

“It is nothing, Father, don't worry.”

“Until she kills us all, of course.”

Watson stuck his lover with a stern glare. “Sherlock, stop! Watch Rosie so I can have some tea before it gets cold.”

Thankfully Sherlock shut up and took the young girl from her father who quickly took up his tea cup. Looked like the curly-haired genius may have finally started to learn how to pick his battles. 

Sherlock wiggled his fingers in front of Rosie's face which got her laughing in no time. “Phalanges!”

“Help yourself to anything you like, Artemis.” Began the eldest Mister Holmes with a bright smile.

“Thank you.” Came Artemis' easy response but she didn't make any attempt to reach for anything other than her coffee.

When everyone had started to eat and Artemis still didn't made no attempt to so much as grab some toast Missus Holmes flashed the girl a concerned expression.

“That all you're having, dear? Just coffee?” She asked nicely with a pleasant smile.

Artemis hardly even glanced up at Missus Holmes from her cup, she didn't intend to be rude or arrogant, she just didn't understand social nuances. 

“I don't need to eat much.”

The white-haired Holmes chuckled. “It's Christmas! You can treat yourself if you'd like.”

Oh Mycroft truly did bless his parents for their attempts at interacting with his love as though she were a normal person but the longer it went on the more he questioned if this had been a terrible idea. Artemis just stares at the plates of food for a moment while Myc's parents watch on with that confusion in their eyes. He wanted to say something but he had no idea how to phrase it – which was unusual for a man of his intellect. How did one tell his parents that his girlfriend had been tortured in to being a deadeyed assassin all her life? 

Artemis seemed to sense Mycroft's awkwardness though so just helped herself to some eggs and bacon as well as a slice of toast; more than Mycroft had seen her eat in one go before. Getting food into that girl was like getting her to put a coat on in the snow. 

The Holmes, Watsons and Artemis at for a short time with only the sound being cutlery tapping against plates and Rosie's occasional happy little voice as she muttered to herself. Frankly Mycroft found himself thankful for the silence … and that Artemis was finally eating for once; how Hades actually managed to keep its Reapers alive for more than five minutes he'd never know. 

“Oh this is nice.” Began Missus Holmes after a bite of toast. “Both my boys home for Christmas. John, little Rosie and now Aremis with us too. So nice.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes in that childish way of his, clearly not happy and nor was his elder brother really. Mycroft would have rather been working back in London, locked away in his office where he could actually get things done. Defeat Hades.

“And I'm so happy for you, Myc.” His mother continued. “Such a pretty girl on your arm.” 

Sherlock took the opportunity to actually groan. “Mother, I'm trying to _eat_. Don't ruin it.”

“Oh hush, Sherlock.”

He fell silent at his father's words and went back to eating.

Artemis spotted Watson staring at her then with a fork full of eggs half way to his mouth, or more specifically the jut out at her side under Mycroft's jumper. Seemed Doctor Watson had spotted her holster, probably didn't want a loaded weapon so close to his child; or maybe didn't think a gun was appropriate for Christmas morning. Watson looked up from the weapon to Artemis' green eyes to find them blank of any emotion, the pair regarded one another for a moment and Artemis honestly wondered if John intended to make a comment but just as quickly as it had started he'd turned away back to his food. 

They all finished eating with Missus Holmes doing most if not all of the talking. When the whole, overly happy family situation had finished John helped the Holmes parents tidy up while Sherlock did his best to clean ketchup off of Rosie's cheeks; only time Sherlock really thought about someone else was when it came to that little girl. To say he still acted like a child more often than not he really was quite good with her. 

Artemis looked around as everyone went off to do one thing or another to help, like they all just knew their role and what came next. Artemis though, she just returned to standing in the doorway, bombs, the air being ninety percent metal, that she could handle but this Christmas family time was very strange and unusual.


	17. Interrogation Has Easier Questions

Hadn't taken everyone very long to head out into the hall and grab their coats with the exception of Artemis, of course, who stood by the front door quietly waiting. Mycroft would have asked her to put a coat on but he'd already won one battle for the day by convincing her to wear his sweater and Mycroft always knew when to pick his battles. 

Snow crunched underfoot as they headed down the path and out the front gate. Hadn't even been a minute before Sherlock started to complain while John – the poor man – did his best to silence his lover and get a hat onto Rosie who he had strapped to him in her baby carrier. 

“Dear, aren't you cold?”

It took Artemis a moment to realize Missus Holmes spoke to her, she wasn't used to people's concern nor was she used to this … family dynamic. She peered at the elder woman with that blank expression of hers, didn't even stop walking for a second.

“No. I don't feel the cold.”

With that she carried on beside Mycroft as though the question had never been asked in the first place. He looped their arms together, the idea being that if he kept her relay close and they stayed just slightly ahead of everyone else there wouldn't be too many – if any – more awkward questions asked of her. 

Even before they'd reached the small hill closest to the house Sherlock had once again started to grumble about being bored and no amount of 'shut it, Sherlock' from Watson actually managed to silence the man. Quite frankly Sherlock should have been lucky he was even their, who had saved him  from a dark pit after  Magnussen, who'd saved him from Serbia after he'd gotten himself captured? Mycroft! Mycroft always saved his little brother. Sherlock should have been grateful to be able to walk along beside the man he loved rather than rotting somewhere dead or alive like he would have been had it not been for his big brother. Still, that wasn't exactly Sherlock, he was a child with the IQ of god. 

“Must we do this?” Sherlock continued to complain. “There's a fireplace and tea back at the house.”

It was his father's turn to quieten his middle child; oh didn't middle child explain a lot. “Sherlock, hush, we always go on a walk. Get some fresh air and take in nature. It's Christmas, a time for being thankful for the things we already have not what we want.” 

“Surely we could just take in nature from _inside _the house? Humans did invent windows, and we'd not be buried in a foot of snow.” 

Watson let out a long, loud, exasperated sigh, the sort where his head rolled back and really pointed out he'd had enough of his lover's whining for one day. In Mycroft's mind Doctor Watson deserved a medal for putting up with his baby brother. 

The British Government finally turned to fix his sibling with one of those stern glares of his, the ones that froze people in place and made them fearful; the ones that hadn't  _ever _ worked on Sherlock. 

“Do shut up, brother mine, and it's no more than four inches of snow, not a foot.” 

“Hate to take your brother's side love but Mycroft is right-”

Sherlock quickly cut the doctor off. “Yes, I know the snow is nowhere near twelve inches.” 

John rolled his eyes; he'd take that medal now. “I meant shut up. This is nice. I swear you're more of a child than Rosie  is.” 

Everyone except for Artemis and Sherlock smirked or chuckled though they didn't laugh for very different reasons.

The small group carried on with their little walk while Missus Holmes snapped a few pictures every now and again, she knew better than to try and get pictures of her sons so she mostly photographed the landscape. 

When they reached the larger hill's summit, though frankly it didn't really even class as a hill, Missus Holmes delighted in the beautiful view despite the mass of trees blocking most of it out. This was why she always insisted on them taking this Christmas morning walk, it was so she could spend some – hopefully – quiet time with her sons and husband, so they could see the beautiful things in the world.

“The house behind us,” she began with a soft smile, “and all this snowy countryside in front of us. Such a shame we aren't higher up, can't imagine how pretty it must be from the top of those trees.” 

The white-haired Holmes chortled to himself then nudged his son with an elbow. “We need one of those big government drones of yours, Myc.”

Yes, because Mycroft would happily go about redirecting needed government equipment for a nice serene picture taking assignment. 

“No need.” All eyes snapped to Artemis as she grabbed the camera from Missus Holmes. “I'll do it.”

Before anyone could ask what the former Reaper had planned Artemis had shoved the camera strap between her teeth, rolled up her sleeves and headed to the closest tree; a very tall one which Sherlock had fallen out of several times as a child. Everyone rushed after her, some slightly concerned others curious. Easily she started the climb, Mycroft had seen what Artemis was capable of, she could certainly climb a tree. 

“Well isn't she full of surprises.” The eldest Holmes said to himself more than his wife or anyone else.

Missus Holmes stared up at Artemis as she vanished through the branches. “Is this safe?”

Sherlock snorted. “No, but Artemis does quite well with danger.” He cast his brother a knowing expression.

The five adults and little Rosie watched on until Artemis was completely out of view, only powdery snow falling from the branches remained as any indication she was actually even up there. While his parents seemed concerned Artemis would fall and hurt herself Mycroft wasn't concerned in the slightest, even if Artemis did somehow fall she'd just stand right back up and carry on; like Terminator but with less metal and repetitive catchphrases. 

A few moments passed by then a few more before they heard her returning to the ground. Branches crackled and crunched under her added weight but never broke, had they not been so close Mycroft doubted they'd have actually even noticed her in the tree;  _as if Artemis would ever make so much noise. _ Her feet appeared first, then those long legs and finally the rest of her all carefully balanced on a single thick branch. 

“British, catch.” 

With that she tossed the camera down gently straight into the suit clad man's hands; had hadn't ever been one for sport so he was rather pleased to have not made a fool of himself. They'd probably all expected her to just come back down the way she'd gone up but it was much easier to get up this tree than to return to the ground, that was why Sherlock had fallen so many times. Mycroft started to calculate her an easier path to the floor but before he'd even got half way  Artemis simply flipped off the branch and landed with a dense thud on the ground before them with a little puff of snow. Mycroft shoved the camera into his father's hands who started to look through the pictures she'd taken impressed by the view and distance he could see. Meanwhile Mycroft helped his beautiful girl to her feet, she didn't need his help but it was the gentlemanly thing to do; he did his best to ignore how cold her skin had gotten. 

“How much longer does this walk go on for?” She asked him quietly. 

“Not long, Little Assassin, Mother is cold so we'll be returning soon.”

Sure enough, not five minutes after Artemis had leapt from the tree his parents had suggested going back to the house – something Sherlock had delighted in – and the group slowly returned to the house.

Once inside Watson and the curly haired Holmes vanished upstairs to put Rosie down for a nap while the white-haired man went off to make fresh tea. Mycroft kindly hung up his mother's coat for her then they made their way into the living room to sit down while Artemis remained outside to do another perimeter check. 

“I like Artemis, Myc.” That certainly got her son's attention. “Though she isn't half odd.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I prefer to think of it as protective. She's very good at her job, Mother.”

“Oh I don't doubt that, my smart boy was never going to choose anything but a smart and unique person.”

“Thank you, Mother.” He said while he silently wished she'd stop talking.

“Maybe a little young though, how old is she Myc?”

Ah the dreaded question for back story she didn't have. He'd worked out how old she was based off the file he'd found in Hades' records but Artemis had the right to know first. Not willing to answer he dodged the question. 

“I know she's younger than me but surely that is not a fault. Artemis is a highly intelligent woman who just so happens to be younger. Doctor Watson is clearly older than Sherlock.” 

His mother raised an eyebrow, clearly on to the fact he was trying to scoot around the subject.

“Yes, but both of them are at least over thirty.” Sensing she'd not get any more out of her son she changed tact. “I know it's probably all highly classified but where did you meet such a girl?”

_Good God, stop._ He had really started to regret bringing Artemis to his parents' for Christmas in the last few minutes.

His eye twitched a little. “Em, it was a very long time ago. We were both working, though Artemis did not work for Britain back then.” 

Missus Holmes perked up at that. “Ooh, she's not from here? She sounds so English though. Is that why she called you British earlier?”

The suit clad man nodded. “Indeed, it is her nickname for me. Also, no, Artemis is not British though she is very good at accents.”

“So where is she from?”

Of course that was her next question. When could he pack his bags and return to London?

“Classified.” Mycroft loved that word, it could shut a door so quickly. 

Missus Holmes rolled her eyes. “Should have seen that answer coming. Well, with skin like hers she's got to be either Scandinavian or Eastern European. Beautiful green eyes though.” 

Yes they most certainly were. He sat there fully aware he knew much more about Artemis than she knew about herself. Seriously, he knew her real name, where she'd been born and yes, how old she was. Mycroft had to tell her, had to give her that file, he knew that now for sure. When they returned to London he'd sit her down in his office and tell her everything. Maybe they could look into finding her family. Still, Myc needed to survive Christmas with his brother and parents first. 

He found himself watching Artemis through the large window as she moved around outside, he knew his girl was fully aware of his eyes on her even if she didn't turn to look at him. The living room door opened than and his father carried in a tea tray, he handed out cups which were quickly accepted. Sherlock and the doctor never returned but that wasn't any big surprise and no one mentioned it; no one wanted to think about it. 

“So is she 'the one'?”

Myc's head snapped to his father so quickly it nearly broke. That question certainly caught him off guard, why would his father just go ahead and blind side him like that? Was this some kind of game his parents had decided to play? Mycroft had nearly choked on his tea. 

“Come now, don't scare the poor boy like that.” She chastised her husband lightly.

“But what about grandchildren? We aren't getting any younger.”

That was Mycroft's cue to had a mini stroke. Grandchildren? Had that word honestly just come out of them?

“Well, we have little Rosie.” Missus Holmes continued. “She's a delight.”

The white-haired man nodded. “I understand that, dear, but she will need a little cousin to play with when she's a bit older.”

Nope, moved on from mini stroke and gone straight to full-blown heart attack. Was his vision blurry too? Missus Holmes turned her attention back to her eldest completely unaware of his internal screaming. 

“You never brought a girl- _anyone_ home to meet us before. From what Sherlock has told us we expected to be introduced to your policeman friend. Gareth is it?”

“Gregory. And why would you think-” He cut himself off. 

_ Ahh, yes, of course, Sherlock the little bastard of Baker Street!  _ One of these days he was going to ring his brother's neck. 

Missus Holmes shifted forwards in her chair careful not to spill her steaming tea. 

“You're father makes an excellent point though. Is Artemis the one for you? She's a touch odd but kind enough and you seem happy.” 

Translation: you're not getting any younger so take what you can get. This was why he didn't like spending an extended period of time with his parents, they sprung unwanted, unneeded questions on him like they were going out of style. Somehow they'd gone from a morning walk to tea and when are you getting married  and giving us some more grandkids. Why couldn't they have been satisfied with Watson's daughter? Didn't matter, Hades had taken Artemis' ability to ever have a child, not that he'd be telling his parents about that … ever. And married? Artemis didn't technically exist – not that it would have been a problem for a man with his resources – but Mycroft had resigned himself to the perpetual bachelor lifestyle years ago. He'd die alone and Myc had come to terms with that. And what if he did suddenly, magically decide to ask Artemis to marry him? Marriage was a pointless waste of time to her, she'd have said no. Why was he even thinking about any of this? He needed out of the room, out of the house, out of the county would have been nice too. 

Mycroft set down his cup and rose to his feet as he straightened his suit. “Excuse me, I should go and fetch Artemis before she freezes.” 

It's running away but he'd not admit to it. Once outside he took a half empty pack of cigarettes from his  inner breast pocket and happily lit one. He sucked in the rich smoke and sighed at the little nugget of relief he got. 

“Aren't you trying to quit?”

The suit clad man jumped, how did she always just appear? When he turned he found Artemis leant against the wall beside the front door with her arms folded across her impressive chest. 

“No,” he admitted, “that's just what I told Lady Smallwood. This keeps saying smoking is bad for me.” 

Artemis padded down the path to her tall ruler of all England, snow crunching under foot and let him wrap an arm around her waist. 

“I can protect you from everything except your own lungs, British.” 

That actually made him laugh, a breathed out chuckle. Oh he'd needed that. Smoke continued to dance around them lightly before it vanished into the air never to be seen again. In truth, whatever killed him, it wouldn't be the cigarettes. 

“I take it the perimeter is secure.” He teased softly. 

“Yes.” She nodded. “All secure and safe.” 

“Good.” With that he pressed his lips to Artemis' own, they were cold from the chilled air. “Is everything on track?”

“Uh-huh, Kerberos has been outed as a traitor just like you wanted. I will, however, need to supply Hades with more information on Project Tesla lest they grow suspicious of me. What is it anyway?” 

Myc sighed and lifted his cigarette back to his lips a moment. “When Nikola Tesla died the US government confiscated several trunks of his work before the poor man's body had even gone cold. Cleared out his room and those trunks were never seen again. There are dozens of conspiracy theories as to what they contained and where they went but in reality not all of them remained in America.  Britain was paid with some of the trunks for some … shall we say aid we provided them. Our people have been sifting through the papers ever since and attempting to further Tesla's research. Let's just say that Project Tesla could make current drone technology look like the incompetent work of a hack.” 

Artemis didn't ask any follow up questions, rarely did, just stood there with the tall man while he smoked and enjoyed the silence. Once he'd finished he crushed the cigarette butt under foot and sighed. 

“Mother will no doubt be starting Christmas dinner, my Little Assassin. Would you like to play chess with me?”

She nodded. “Very well. You know, I had expected this Christmas thing to be a total waste of time, although I have started to learn a great deal from your family.” 

Mycroft cocked an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Their opinions of the world and its running. Also, a woman's perspective in regards to _normal _ life.” 

The British Government thought about her words as they made their way back up the path and into the house. He'd not realized until that moment but Artemis did spend all her time with men, his mother was the only woman she'd ever spend any prolonged time with; she didn't even communicate with Anthea all that much. He'd think about that more once Christmas was over.


	18. She's A Killer

Several more hours of Christmas went by, Mycroft and his father had played chess, which had been quite pleasant though much too easy, while the rest of his family milled around occupying themselves. 

Mycroft hadn't foreseen the one issue though, and _why _hadn't he seen it coming he was a fucking genius for Christ's sake. There they were after their – rather indulgent – Christmas dinner, opening presents peacefully while Artemis just sat there with her back straight in silence. She watched as Myc opened a few things as if it were part of some strange, elaborate ritual; well, to Artemis it was. He soon found himself concerned his lover and bodyguard would feel left out, everyone passing around gifts to one another but she didn't have one to give … or maybe Artemis hadn't even noticed. When he'd given her a stack of books to unwrap she'd genuinely looked happy with the selection of everything from _The Castle of Ontario _to _Harry Potter _so she had quite the choice. However, ever since she'd just been sat in a perpetual quietude which only made Mycroft second guess himself more; sometimes gauging Artemis' thoughts and reactions could be almost impossible. The raven-haired assassin had taken part in Christmas just as he'd intended but she still wasn't _part _of it all. The British Government sighed, maybe this would just have to be a work in progress. 

Night had fallen some hours ago though thankfully it hadn't decided to snow again much to the ginger's pleasure. When darkness had taken over the white-haired Holmes had lit a fire which had roared to life and filled the living room with a comforting warmth and orange glow. Snow outside reflected the moon though not quite as dramatically as it had early that morning when they'd woken up, In all honesty Mycroft found himself thinking about that cabin every few minutes and he didn't quite know what to make of it. 

Little Rosie had gone off to bed some time ago and the suit clad man was certain his mother couldn't pack any more tea away without blowing up; surely everyone would be off to bed so he could have some peace and quiet soon. A quick glance down to his watch and the small yawns that had started to come from his father were pretty good indicators he was right … as usual.

“So what did you get for, Myc, dear?” Missus Holmes asked the assassin when she realized just how long Artemis had been still for. 

_Well, this is awkward_ , grumbled Mycroft's mind. It wasn't like he'd expected her to get him a present, he didn't need gifts, but perhaps he should have mentioned it a bit more so she didn't get put on the spot. Clearly Mycroft hadn't gotten very good at the whole having a girlfriend thing just yet. He'd just been about to start spewing forth some crap on the fly when Artemis' cellphone buzzed pulling everyone's – except for Sherlock's – attention. She removed it from her pocket and peered at the screen. 

“Finally, someone to kill.”

Mycroft flashed her a sideways glance. “Excuse me?”

“Perimeter alarm was just triggered.” She answered smoothly.

John didn't seem bothered in the least, much too happy curled up by the fire with his curly-haired lover. 

“Could have just been an animal. And seriously, you set up sensor alarms?”

Artemis nodded. “I did, yes, also it's not an animal. See.”

She turned her cellphone so as everyone could see the screen properly. There before them were several men crunching through the snow, all armed and looking as though they knew what they were doing.

“I'm good at my job.”

Mycroft wouldn't argue with that, not for a single second. 

Sherlock was the first to lean closer for a better look at the men as they passed the tiny camera she'd set up in a tree, while the Holmes parents just stared at Artemis with expressions somewhere between abject horror and what could only be described as 'oh no not again'.

“Armenians by the looks of them.” Said Sherlock only for John to sigh loudly.

“For God's sake, Sherlock. I told you last week, didn't I? I said 'no, don't anger the violent mob or Armenians because they'll probably try to kill us all'. Once again, we're in danger because you.”

Mycroft and Artemis ignored whatever domestic spat this was and kept their attention on the job at hand. 

“That is a twelve man kill squad, whatever you did pissed them off royally.” She looked over to Mycroft on her left. “That camera is a mile away.” 

Sherlock shrugged. “It's fine, I can deal with this-”

John cut him off abruptly, voice growing more irritated with every word. “Sherlock, shut up. How about we let the trained bloody _assassin _deal with the people trying to kill us because you're a show off!”

The eldest Mister Holmes' eyebrows shot up. “Assassin? Mycroft, what is going on? You said this lady was your bodyguard.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, was this really the time to start asking a million questions? “Prior occupation, Father.” 

Artemis drew her weapon from the holster under her sweater then and looked pointedly at Watson.

“I take it you brought your firearm, Doctor Watson.” It wasn't a question but still the gray-haired man nodded. “Good. Get it, and I suggest you get your daughter as well. There's no basement in this place so we're going to have to do this with cargo in hand.”

Missus Holmes shook herself out of her 'my son is dating a murderer' head space and spoke quickly but calmly. “No, there's a crawl space in the kitchen next to the pantry, we don't use it much.”

John appeared relieved. “Great. I'll put Rosie in there, might be able to without waking her.”

He rushed off without another word then, just the sound of him racing up the stairs though he did stay low to the ground. Artemis gestured for everyone to sit on the ground which was obeyed quickly as she grabbed a large vase off the side table by the door, she yanked the flowers out and just let them fall to the ground then tossed the water at the fire putting it out rather easily. The room plunged into darkness and everyone went silent a moment, strange how silence could be so deafening. 

Both of his parents returned to staring at the suit clad man with questioning expressions while Artemis skilfully closed curtains.

Sherlock smirked to himself. “Don't think they like your girlfriend any longer, brother.”

“Shut up, Sherlock.” Mycroft hissed without meaning to. “She is cleaning up another of your messes after all. Can we have one Christmas where you don't drug us or nearly get us killed? Just one?”

“Stop bickering, the pair of you.” The boys fell silent instantly. “Sherlock, why are these people trying to hurt you?”

For once Sherlock had the common curiosity to look somewhat apologetic. “I may or may not have put sixteen of them in jail all at once, including their boss' only son. I may have also suggested they weren't that intelligent and caused them to lose out on a million's worth of diamonds.”

Mycroft facepalmed and Artemis returned to them on the floor with a rather large, black case which she clicked open to reveal an arsenal.

“Watson is hiding his daughter.” She informed plainly.

The white-haired man went wide-eyed at the amount of blades and guns inside the case. “Oh good Lord.”

“Mycroft, you let her bring all these guns into our house?!”

The British Government just nodded; they could be angry with him later. “Lucky I did, Mother.”

Artemis sorted herself out, checking magazines and calibrating scopes. She grabbed a CZ 75 and held it out towards Sherlock who appeared quite surprised to be offered a weapon. 

“You only use this to protect your parents and Rosie. If you piss about and act like a fucking child with an itchy trigger finger, even your brother won't be able to stop me choking you out and cutting off your fingers. Understand?” 

Normally Sherlock would have had some witty come back but this time he just nodded and stayed quiet much to everyone's amazement. Sherlock wouldn't ever admit it but Mycroft suspected his little brother feared Artemis on some level. 

She handed him the weapon then started to kit herself out with knives and two Glocks which she attached to her legs with drop leg holsters. However, it was the large Stealth Recon Scout that had everyone's eyes wide; maybe Myc would check her luggage before they came to visit his parents again. Short of throwing stars and grenades it looked like Artemis had prepared for war. She either didn't notice or didn't care about everyone staring at her because Artemis just carried on. 

“There's roof access so I can pick the off easily enough.” She told them after a few moments. “I don't perceive anyone getting passed me but you should be on alert just in case.” Artemis continued to load the rifle. “Anyone does get in this house you let Watson deal with it first, he's the solider.” 

No one needed to ask if she was speaking to Sherlock or not, they knew she was. Artemis threw the rifle over her shoulder to give her back use of her hands then grabbed a tactical monocular which she tossed to Mycroft who raised an eyebrow. 

“Come on, British.”

“You want me up on the roof?” _Surely not. _

Artemis nodded. “Look, I know you're overly attached to your suits but I need a spotter, so you're going to have to haul ass for me.”

The former Reaper didn't pause for more conversation nor questions, just rose to her feet and headed out into the hall with a rather reluctant Mycroft a couple of steps behind her. Artemis practically scampered up the stairs and yanked the cord to open the attic access. The pair climbed up easily enough into the dusty attic, though 'attic' was being generous, Mycroft certainly wouldn't have been able to stand upright and suspected the skylight they'd found was only there to provide better access to the roof for repairs than anything else. She handed him her weapon and as soon as he took it he realized just how much of a powerful woman Artemis was, the rifle was heavy and made his arms ache almost instantly. 

Carefully Artemis shoved open the skylight and shimmied out onto the roof only to reach her hand back a second or so later to take her gun from him. Mycroft though … well, he wasn't quite as fluid at getting up on the roof. He was a mastermind not a fighter, he didn't want to do any of this. Still, these people were going to try and kill them, wasn't like they could just go ignored. While he suspected Artemis wouldn't have had any problem killing the Armenians on the ground she was a fantastic sharpshooter and it would have been irrevocably stupid to give that up just because he didn't want to climb out onto a roof in the snow and darkness. 

Mycroft bit the bullet – though in hindsight that may have been a poor choice of words – and clambered up onto the roof; though he did stumble which forced Artemis to grab a hold of him. Having done her bodyguard duties she and Mycroft lay down on their stomachs facing west where the kill squad would approach form and lay in wait. 

He hated this, though it hadn't started snowing again it was cold icy, snow had settled on the roof so they lay in slowly melting snow.

“They're in range.” Said Artemis as she peered through her scope. “Make yourself useful and be a spotter.”

Mycroft huffed, Sherlock was going to pay for this shit if it was the last thing he fucking did. Then again, it was nice to have Artemis on his side, he'd been on the receiving end and it most certainly hadn't been pleasant. 

“What is that six-hundred and fifty yards?”

Mycroft shook his head even though she'd not be able to see him as he looked through the monocular. 

“No, six-ninety. Can you make that?”

Artemis didn't miss a beat. “Seriously? This thing has a max range of sixteen-hundred and fifty yards. This distance I could take the wings of a ladybird.”

The time for chit-chat was over, Mycroft made sure to make himself useful as Artemis had put it and act as her spotter. This was the smart part, he could do the smart but while Artemis dealt with the more violent part. 

“Alright,” he began quietly, “forty-five-degree oblique wind. Three-quarter value wind speed.”

“Well you're full of surprises. I suggest you cover up your ears, British.”

Mycroft did just that as Artemis aimed and instantly one of the twelve was down before they'd even known what had hit them. That repeated ten more times with him occasionally providing her slight updates, but, just as quickly as she'd started Artemis lay her weapon down and the gunfire ended. 

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Why are you stopping? There are twelve of them.” 

Artemis nodded without looking too bothered; not that anything ever bothered her. “I know, but the one over by the wall thinks he's smart shifting closer when I fire. He's coming for the window to my right so he can sneak past me and get inside.”

The now sodden man just stared at her. “And you're allowing this why?”

“Because it's exactly what I would have done but I wouldn't have been seen doing it. Shooting this one is too easy, he deserves a fighting chance.” 

_We're not playing games here_ he'd wanted to scream but kept silent when she pulled out one of her knives, it shined dangerously in the moonlight. Mycroft had no choice but to watch her slowly shuffle to the edge of the roof and then – in one smooth motion – jump off and let gravity take her. The next things he heard were a male scream, a dense thud and finally silence. Mycroft huffed, she may have been blank before but he'd started to think she enjoyed killing; or at least took too much pride in it. 

Twelve men had breached her perimeter and now those twelve men were dead, the threat had been neutralized as Artemis would have said, so he carefully – fuck was he careful – lowered himself back through the skylight with her rifle and headed down the attic stairs. He didn't bother closing the access, someone else could do that, his arms hurt from hauling her gun around.  One step at a time he trudged down the narrow stairs and back into the living room where he found Watson, Sherlock and his parents still sat on the floor. This wasn't what Mycroft had planned for Christmas, but at least they were all still alive; there was something to be said for having an assassin for a bodyguard. 

“Is it done?” John asked as Mycroft stripped of his sodden suit jacket and tie after he'd rested Artemis' weapon against the wall.

“Yes, Doctor Watson, go and get your daughter.”

John did just that, shot up from the floor lightening fast and rushed out the door. Mycroft was many things but he'd never have forgiven himself had something happened to that little girl. He fell down into an armchair as his parents pulled themselves to their feet and sat themselves down hand in hand.

“What is going on, Myc?” Asked his mother, her voice littered with fear. “Where is Artemis?”

Sherlock answered rather unhelpfully for his elder brother. “Killing everyone or did you miss that, Mother?”

“They're all dead already. She's quick when she works.” Added Mycroft though they weren't helpful comments either. 

“Mycroft, son,” began his father slowly “this girl is rather a lot more dangerous than we'd thought.”

“And she saved all of our lives.” A hand shot out accusingly at his brother. “Lives, Sherlock here put in danger once again.”

The topic of conversation herself re-entered the living room then and all eyes shot straight to her, Artemis had blood spattered across her face and a little on the olive sweater Mycroft had given her that morning. She took a tissue from the box by the door and cleaned crimson off of her knife then tossed it in the trash. 

“British, would you like me to bury the bodies?”

The ginger shook his head. “No, no, I'll have a unit come out and clean it up.”

Artemis didn't question him further, just strode over to her rifle and clicked the safety on before she started to break it down and put it away inside the case. After a moment she held her hand out expectantly towards Sherlock and he handed over the pistol without question. She made to carry the large case back up to their bedroom once she'd finished but paused and turned back to her lover. From her back pocket the former Reaper took a folded piece of paper and handed it to Mycroft. 

“What's this?” He asked curiously.

“Happy Christmas.”

That was the only answer he got before she returned to moving the case upstairs. Slowly Mycroft unfolded the paper uncaring about his parents' stares. There he found a drawing of the cabin they'd met in, the one he'd burnt down under her orders, the one which only existed inside their minds now. It was more akin to a tactical drawing or something an architect would make than a real sketch but still the detail utterly amazed him. Mycroft smiled, actually smiled. Carefully he folded the paper up into a little square again and grabbed his wet clothes before he followed Artemis up to their room after he'd bid his parents and Sherlock a good night. The Armenians would be gone by the end of Boxing Day and his parents had probably already figured out he'd be gone as well. Mycroft would deal with Sherlock once they'd returned to London. 

He climbed the stairs again, rounded the attic stairs and slipped inside their bedroom where he tossed his clothes down out of the way and lovingly set his present down on the nightstand. Artemis had stripped down to just her underwear and had a towel in her hands which she used to wipe away the blood on her face with the aid of the closet mirror. Mycroft snaked his arms around her slender, and chilled, waist from behind and just clung to her with his forehead rested on her shoulder and his eyes closed. 

“I love you.”

She leant back against him. “I love you too.”

Mycroft didn't speak again, just continued to cling to her as if she'd fade away. Artemis hadn't ever had Christmas before, hadn't done the whole gift giving thing but even though it was just some pencil on a sheet of paper that drawing had instantly become the most important thing he owned. Artemis had made it for him, only him, a picture of where they'd first met and of how far they'd come. They were two people who had accepted they'd be alone all their lives, but then that cabin had trapped them and their lives had changed exponentially. He loved her. 


	19. And So It Crumbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since this got updated. Enjoy!!

Just as he'd promised Mycroft had ensured all the dead Armenians were cleaned away long before his mother or father could even think of leaving the house on Boxing Day. Honestly, Mycroft had done the same with himself and Artemis, he'd packed up their things and escaped the house for London before his mother had the chance to offer him a cup of tea. Maybe he'd been rude but the eldest Holmes brother had longed to return to London since they'd arrived on Christmas Eve, then there was the simple fact he'd wanted to avoid the awkward 'your girlfriend killed twelve people last night and didn't bat an eye' conversation.

He might have broken a few speeding laws on their return to the big city but soon they returned to his large house which Artemis' presence had started to turn into a home. She need much prompting to take her weapons downstairs while Mycroft scurried off to his office to check his emails and make a few phone calls. Didn't take him more then five minutes to figure out exactly why they'd been attacked and by who, Lestrade had kept a full record of the case and had been there when Sherlock had decided to play 'piss off the Armenian Mafia' as Lestrade had put it. Mycroft had done more sighing during that call than the last week as a whole; some days there really was no controlling his little brother. Sherlock had always done that, angered the wrong person out of arrogance or just sheer Sherlock-ness and then Mycroft would be left to deal with the fallout which followed … and he did. Mycroft _always _did and _always_ would no matter how badly Sherlock screwed up because Mycroft was the big brother and he loved him. None of that meant he didn't grow excessively tired of doing so at times. Those Armenians hadn't just endangered Sherlock Watson and Mycroft – if it had he'd not have cared since they had Artemis – but their parents had been endangered and Sherlock hadn't even bat an eye. 

The British Government sat there in his desk chair with his head rested on a fist for quite some time as he tried to lock this Christmas away deep down where it couldn't irritate him as much. The younger Holmes brother may have ruined it all but Artemis had actually taken part in the festivities which had been his goal from the very beginning; was most of the reason he'd agreed to go to his parents' house. His little assassin had opened up somewhat as well which had been wonderful, even made him a present.

Mycroft removed the folded sheet of paper carefully from his suit jacket's inner pocket and unfolded it to look at. More of a diagram than a sketch but Artemis had really made the effort and had ended up giving him something with true meaning, true value. He adored his sketch of the cabin and he adored her. 

It took him rather a long time of rooting around in disused drawers and that cupboard he'd not looked in since he'd moved in but finally, _finally_, he'd stumbled across a frame large enough to fit it. Mycroft hadn't ever been one for family pictures, photographs of any kind really but he grinned when he came across the simple wooden frame; where it had come from he honestly had no idea. The suit clad man marched back to his office and slumped down into his desk chair with the frame and sketch before him, he carefully folded the page edges to make a neat rectangle then slipped his gift into the picture frame. Myc sat just staring at it for a few seconds, it couldn't stay on his desk, not with the huge window that let in so much sunlight behind him, no, there the pencil would fade quickly. There was really only one place for it, his office at work, it could sit there happily without being disturbed since there weren't any windows in his work office; dark and quiet. 

The old grandfather clock out in the hall had his head snapping up then and Mycroft finally realized just how long he'd been searching his house. Leaving his Christmas behind the ginger man rose to his full height and left his office in search of his resident assassin. He could have called out for her – it was a large house after all – but Mycroft didn't bother, he knew she'd be in one of two places; his library or the basement he'd converted for her. A quick glance into the library revealed the large room to be empty so the basement it was. 

He knew she'd have heard his footfalls so he wasn't too bothered when she didn't look up as he entered the vast basement room which now seemed closer to Artemis' personal warfare room. Blue eyes quickly dropped to the floor where she sat meticulously cleaning the rifle she'd used the previous night while surrounded by at least a dozen other guns she'd either already cleaned or needed to move on to. At some point in the hours since they'd arrived home she'd changed into her work out clothes – a black crop top and gay leggings – and judging by the paper targets down range she'd murdered a lot of paper people as well. Her slender body had his attention more than the targets though, not for any sexual reason though he had to admit just how beautiful she was. No, he stared because on her exposed stomach he could see the bullet wounds from when he'd shot her years earlier and the newer, just healed, mark Doctor Watson had patched up. There were others he didn't know the origin of as well, some small and faded, others more prominent. Worse still were the ones which caused him pain as well, the burn marks on the middle of her back, all of them clearly intentional scars; no way Artemis could have done those to herself so someone must have held her down. After a steadily breath Mycroft forced his blue eyes away from them and walked further into the room until he was stood just outside the ring of weapons she'd surrounded herself with. Finally she turned those impossibly green eyes up to face him. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked softly.

They hadn't stayed for breakfast and hadn't stopped on the way back to London either so God knew when they'd actually last eaten.

“I can eat if you want me to.” She responded right as she started to resemble her rifle; a skill she was much too good at.

He flashed her a small smile. “That isn't what I asked.” 

Artemis paused then with her eyes locked on his face. To anyone else she'd have appeared blank or disinterested but Mycroft had learned about her tiny facial cues, half of which he doubted she was even aware of. Yes, he knew she wasn't blank, in actual fact Artemis wassearching his face to try and figure out the answer he'd wanted and why. His raven-hair bodyguard had proven much harder to read than anyone else he'd _ever _met but he was a quick study. He let her sit there a moment and work through it, figure it out for herself, he could see the serious thought she gave to his simple question; eventually, though, she nodded.

“Yes, I think so.”

Mycroft hated that this beautiful, young woman had been twisted and turned to the point she couldn't even tell if her own body was hungry or not. She'd probably got herself on some sort of schedule or belief that is she ate at least once every four days she'd be fine. Artemis didn't eat to enjoy her food or because it was meal time, no, she ate to stop herself passing out.  _Maybe we should try a maple bacon doughnut, that would work on me. _

“Good.”

He reached out a hand to help her up, a hand she accepted quickly and hopped to her feet then stepped out of the ring of firearms.

“Come on, I'll make us lunch.”

~X~

It was the second week of January when Sherlock and Doctor Watson were marched into Mycroft's work office while he and Artemis had been enjoying tea with Lestrade. Security dumped them before the British Government while the elder Holmes sighed deeply and set his tea down. Lestrade – who sat on the black leather couch – shared his friends irritation while Artemis just continued to stand at Mycroft's side without a single readable facial expression. 

Sherlock's brow furrowed when she spotted the police officer. “What the hell are you doing here, Lestrade?”

The silver-haired man downed the last of his tea then set the cup down. “I was invited, unlike you it would seem.”

“Sherlock,” said the suit clad man who drew the younger Holmes' attention back to him, “why are you breaking in? You could have called if you missed me.” 

“Shut up, Mycroft!” Sherlock shot back. “I needed to test a theory for a case and the only place with a camera system worthy enough was here.” 

_Of course it was. _ “Well, brother mine, whatever it is you were doing has clearly failed-” 

Sherlock cut his brother off abruptly. “Only because John here doesn't know what crouching is.” 

Watson's eyebrows shot up in protest. “What? Hey, don't go pinning this on me. I told you till I was blue in the face this was a dumb idea.” He waved to Lestrade. “Also, hi, Greg.” 

“Hi, John.”

Clearly irritated Sherlock suddenly started waving both hands around the room at everyone as if it was some sort of out of control jazz hand thing.

“Yes, yes, hello everybody. Chubby older brother, Gareth, walking homicidal maniac. Can we move on?” He sighed for effect. “Now that we're inside and the mass greeting is over with I need to see your camera footage to see precisely where and when we were first spotted.” 

That was Sherlock Holmes, polite and courteous as always, never demanding, insouciant or just plain rude. 

“Or I could just throw you out, which is quite frankly where I'm leaning.” 

John sighed, keenly aware he'd need to be the voice of reason between the Holmes brothers yet again. 

“Mycroft,” he began calmly, “just let him see it. You know he'll only try it again if you don't show him now. It's easier on all of us this way and I told Missus Hudson she'd only need to watch Rosie until two.”

“I really don't have time for this.” Mycroft muttered to himself. In truth he'd not really had time to have a tea break with Gregory but he'd forced himself to sit down and take his mind off of Hades for an hour. He'd got no real choice but to relent. “Alright, fine. Anthea!” 

Mycroft's assistant appeared not even a full five seconds later, just stood in the doorway as she peered around security. 

“Yes, Sir?”

“Take my brother and Doctor Watson up to the main conference room and pull up the camera footage for today.”

“Very good, Sir.”

Sherlock didn't wait just flicked that ridiculous coat of his and walked out of his elder brother's office leaving Anthea and John to trail along behind him as if they were nothing more than lackeys. With a wave of his hand Mycroft sent security off and finally the room returned to the calm quiet it had been before. 

Lestrade took a breath. “If he was my brother I'd have killed him when we were kids.”

That got a smirk from the ginger.

“Yes, well, I am in remarkable control of myself.” He stood then but something underneath his skirt seemed to irritate him and caused him to tug his waistcoat down in irritation. “Damn this thing.”

“It'll be camera forty-six.” Said Artemis, a comment which had both men snap their heads towards her with raised eyebrows.

“Huh?”

“Of all the cameras that guard this building camera forty-six is the most easily missed, I almost did. The cover to get past it is actually what prevents you seeing the camera itself. It is exceptionally well placed.” 

“You memorized all of the cameras and where they are, didn't you?” 

Lestrade didn't appear to require and actually answer but Artemis nodded anyway before she continued to speak; Mycroft leaned on his desk. 

“Don't you do the same thing when you first enter a building?”

Gregory shrugged. “Nah, I more look at the wallpaper, notice if anyone has dusted recently.”

“I am sorry for cutting our lunch short, Gregory, but I must attend to Sherlock. Might I ask you a small favor?”

“Sure Myc.” The policeman nodded. “Anything.” 

“Thank you. Would you be so kind as to join us upstairs and then make sure my brother actually leaves the area once he's outside.”

That got a smirk out of the silver-haired man.

“Yeah, I can do that. Not a problem.”

Mycroft nodded his thanks and then his friend and lover followed him out of his office and up to the main conference room, the one with all those full length windows that let in _way _too much light. They found Sherlock had made himself rather comfortable slumped in a chair with his feet up while John stared out the window at the street below and Anthea did as she'd been asked via a laptop in the corner of the room.

The British Government clapped his hands together. “Alright, let us get this over with. Anthea, bring up camera forty-six, please.” 

Anthea – ever perfect at her job Anthea – obeyed and quickly turned the large screen on and brought up the requested camera. Sure enough after a few moments of re-winding Sherlock and Doctor Watson came into view creeping around in what they'd thought was a sneaky way; clearly not. 

John folded his arms across his chest. “How did you know it would be _that _camera?”

Mycroft didn't miss a single beat. “Because Artemis is very good at her job.” He turned to his assistant and thanked her before looking back to his irritating baby brother. “Now that you've seen that and realized you were _far _more visible than the good doctor, you can leave.”

“Em, Myc,” started Lestrade in a mighty confused tone of voice “what is going on with your cameras, mate?

Six sets of eyes flashed to the large screen in an instant to see the cameras quickly turning to static one after another. A look of horror crossed Mycroft's face.

“They're early.” Either Artemis went totally ignored or no one heard her.

Suddenly gunshots rang out from down the hall, lots of them in controlled bursts followed by screams and shouts. Artemis had her gun out in seconds.

“Doctor Watson, did you bring your firearm?”

John's mouth fluttered for a second or two before words managed to tumble out. “What, to this place? No!”

Artemis turned her attention to the policeman. “Inspector Lestrade?” 

Gregory shook his head. “Good. That will make this far easier.”

Before any of them could even think about questioning what the hell that meant Artemis raised her weapon at them and they all hopped backwards in shock. John, Anthea and Gregory raised their hands while Sherlock just stared at her with surprise. Mycroft's mouth fell open as he looked at her, the woman who had saved his life, the woman who he'd introduced his parents to, the woman he'd fallen in love with. 

She was still one of them.


	20. Any Day

Everyone stared at Artemis, the barrel of her weapon firmly held towards them, this woman – this _Reaper –_ wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Lestrade cast his friend a concerned glance but Mycroft honestly didn't look nearly as devastated as he'd expected, _probably the shock_, his mind reasoned. It certainly wasn't the first time any of them had found a loaded weapon pointed at their heads but this might have been the last. Reapers weren't out for fame, they had no political agenda nor revenge motive, Hades just killed and got paid so they could kill again. Hades – when it was all said and done – were facilitators, tools for people to steal and kill one another with. Lestrade had though Artemis different, thought she'd broken her chains and escaped, but now he saw the truth, saw there wasn't any breaking them. Though she had a gun on him the policeman discovered, bizarrely, that he wasn't angry, he didn't hate her, had he been subjected to the horrors and tortures she had he knew he'd have firmly been indoctrinated as well. After she'd let Mycroft go from that small cabin in the middle of nowhere Hades had more than likely put their foot down, crushed that last strand of resistance inside her to leave her just as shell-like as all the others. His heart broke for Mycroft, his friend, the Iceman, he'd finally started to thaw his heart and then she'd crushed it for him; in Gregory's opinion that was worse than killing them.

“What are you doing, Arrtemis?” Mycroft finally managed to asked but her expression didn't change.

“Be quiet.” It didn't sound like an order, didn't sound like a question. “Form a line and move down the hall. I only require you alive so I can kill your friends and brother.”

Her eyes were dead inside, none of that light which had made her green emeralds sparkle. Artemis didn't waste another word either, just let the sound of gunfire – it came slower now – stress the seriousness of the situation they'd found themselves in. When she gestured to the door with her Beretta they reluctantly obeyed and moved out single file, hands raised in surrender.

Slowly they made their way through the long hallway and down into the lower, more restricted, sections of the building, real sunlight got replaced by lights and everything got just that little bit colder. The further down they got the louder the gunfire became, as if Hades wasn't all that interested in those who worked upstairs, that was fair since up there was mostly just low ranking analysts and desk jockey. Down in the levels below were the secrets, the hidden meetings and everything ordinary people thought were just in the Bond movies. Disturbingly the screaming and yells grew quieter, because the staff down in the lower levels were trained or because they were all dead already none of the group knew; they could guess though.

“Oh God!” Exclaimed John when he saw two bodies laying on the floor, weapons still in their hands. “Christ, they're the security guards who brought us in.”

Not half an hour ago those men had been alive and doing their jobs, Watson had even spoken with the taller one.

Suddenly two other Reapers came into view, one ginger man and a rather tall black woman, both were kitted out in tactical gear and just as blank as Artemis. The woman carried an M16 in her well practised hands while the man had a trusty HK416, none of the four men nor Anthea wanted to learn just how good they were with those.

Gregory shuffled closer to his suit clad friend. “Myc, did she let them in?”

“Yes.” Mycroft replied sorrowfully as the two new Reapers fell into formation on either side of Artemis to march them down the hall. “I think she did.”

“She had you fooled, didn't she.” Sherlock hissed from just behind his older brother. “Evil assassins don't usually end up as turncoats.” He snorted. All the things he'd done in his life, Moriarty, Magnussen, his sister, and yet it was Mycroft's stupidity and lovesick heart that would finally kill Sherlock Holmes. “And you think you're the smart one. She's no renegade.”

The black woman stepped ahead of the hostages – because that's what they were now they realized mournfully – and pushed a door open to a fairly large office then they all found themselves ushered inside. Only once inside did Artemis finally lower her weapon. There they all came face to face with maybe ten to twelve Reapers all armed to the teeth and ready to kill on a moments notice. John's eyes flicked about as he tried to assess if there was _any _tactical way out of this, he'd been in worse situations, right? No. John had been to war, had followed Sherlock around for years, but this was by far the worst situation he'd ever found himself in. Emotions often made people dumb or left it so as they could be reasoned with; Hades had stamped out all emotions long ago.

Mycroft's and Sherlock's eyes fell on five people stood in the centre of the room as if they'd been waiting for them – probably had – three women and two men. While they were dressed the same as the other Reapers, carried a small arsenal and had no facial expressions whatsoever, there was still something different about these five people; they were Hades' generals, minus Kerberos of course.

Quickly Lestrade, Sherlock, Anthea and Watson were pushed off to the side where the doctor stumbled and slammed his hip into the door handle of what was most likely a supply closet; he hissed but no one took notice. Artemis grabbed Mycroft by his shoulder and shoved him down to his knees before the generals. There was no greetings, no introductions, none of the usual monologuing which usually came with the evil doers, none of that, no, they just stood before him and got straight to work.

“We have been informed that Project Tesla requires an access code which only two people have access to, you are one of them. What is it?” Questioned the shortest general, an Asian woman of approximately forty.

Mycroft shook his head despite the guns pointed at his head and the betrayal of the woman he loved stinging his heart.

“I'm not telling you.”

Without warning Artemis tucked her Baretta away, grabbed his left hand and snapped the pinky finger harshly to the side causing a god-awful crack. Mycroft cried out in pain but forced himself to control it, bury it down and stay strong, if not for his brother's life and the lives of his friends then for England.

“Leave him alone!” Lestrade yelled only for an excessively tall Reaper to smack him in the face with the butt of his rifle.

Anthea managed to catch the silver-haired man before he dropped to the floor and John quickly took a look at his now bleeding face.

“Access code.” Artemis repeated.

Amazing that she could sound so violent and dominant without making a single lilt in her voice, not a single octave change.

The suit clad man shook his head again. “No.”

When he'd first started out his Uncle Rudy had come to him and made sure Mycroft knew that their chosen profession wasn't easy, any day could be the last. Myc had taken that to heart long, long ago and he'd come to terms with it. Mycroft Holmes had been ready to die for a very long time, he didn't want to, but he was prepared for it; that was why it had been so easy to try and get Sherlock to shoot him at Sherringford.

In one smooth motion Artemis released his hand, broken finger jutting out agonizingly, and straightened up. Nothing of the woman he loved remained, not the sparkle in her polished emeralds, not the way she'd call him British, nothing. All of Mycroft remained though and she knew him better than even his own brother, knew how his mind truly worked, so it wasn't much of a surprise when she returned her Beretta to her hand and aimed the barrel firmly at his little brother's head; point blank. Watson wanted desperately to lunge at her but all he'd have succeeded in doing was killing them all a lot faster.

“Access code.” She said for a second time, eyes hardly even blinking.

Mycroft remained quiet for a few seconds clearly torn but looking at her he knew he had no choice but to relent. Artemis wasn't bluffing and he doubted she'd even blink when his baby brother's blood splattered on her face. He visibly deflated in defeat.

“Alpha-608-Kilo-24-Romeo-7.”

“Hydra,” began the elder male general, “take a team and get us Project Tesla. Kill anyone in your way.”

Hydra nodded and pointed to three of the Reapers before he lead them out of the room in search of their prize. As soon as Hades had Project Tesla they'd kill anyone left in the building and leave. MI6 wiped out in a single afternoon, all because the Iceman had let a beautiful young woman into his heart. Mycroft supposed the saying was true; the person you care for the most, is the person you'll let hurt you the most. He couldn't have cared less about his finger in that moment, no, just the _idea _of Artemis betraying him hurt his soul.

The remaining generals cast a look to Artemis then Mycroft almost in a robotic-like unison before Nix – a woman somewhere in her mid thirties with blond hair in a ponytail - tilted Mycroft's head up a little for a better look at him.

“This is really the one who infiltrated our Finland outpost? He is weak.”

Charon walked to Artemis, his aged and bearded face just as unreadable as every other Reaper in the building.

“You let him escape, 132601, do not fail Hades again.”

Lestrade's mouth fell open. No, no that wasn't happening. Artemis raised her weapon.

“Artemis, don-”

Mycroft never got any further. A single loud shot rang out around the room, Sherlock tried to launch at her but Greg and John managed to hold him back lest they be shot as well; Anthea screamed. Artemis hadn't hesitated, not for a single second, just fired a bullet into Mycroft's chest without so much as taking a breath first. The suit clad man lay slumped on the ground, eyes closed and unmoving. Blood stained his clothes as it slowly started to drip downwards from his heart to the carpeted floor. Any day, was what Uncle Rudy had said, any day could be the last and Mycroft's 'any day' had finally come.

“Good.” Said Charon in what was probably as close to praise as he could get.

“You fucking monster!” Sherlock screamed as his lover and Greg continued to hold him back.

Sherlock hadn’t believed she'd actually do it, thought maybe it had all been some stupid game to teach Sherlock a lesson for his arrogant ways, but there his brother lay dead. He went heavy in John's arms as his legs gave out from underneath him. All the horrid things he'd said to his brother, the squabbles and the arguing, they'd seemed so fundamental at the time. He'd made jokes about Mycroft dying but now the pain set in. All the things he'd said didn't mean he didn't truly love his brother. He'd always loved Mycroft, adored and idolized him when they'd been children. Mycroft had read him pirate stories and taken care of him, _always _taken care of him. Tears rolled down his cheeks as realization struck him, Mycroft had just died taking care of him.

The silver-haired policeman wrapped his arms around Anthea as she cried her own tears and he tried so hard to push the anger inside him away, Greg couldn't break down, not now; he'd mourn his friend later.

Styx looked at the four of them for a second with her honey-chocolate eyes. “Kill them.”

Before the Reaper with the HK416 could even raise his weapon Artemis had started to speak much too calmly.

“I recommend we keep them alive for now.” All of the generals look at her expecting an answer as to why they'd bother. “That one-” she gestured to Lestrade “-is a police inspector, he is also Holmes' best friend. If there are any issues he is likely to know what Holmes would have done or where he'd have hidden something. As for the others, if we keep them alive we have leverage against Lestrade.”

Charon nodded seemly accepting her reasoning as a way of speeding up their work. “Very well.”

“Shove them in there. Take their phones.” Yama loosely gestured to the supply closet John had bumped into earlier.

The hostages quickly found themselves pushed forcefully into the small room and the door was slammed shut without much care. John got shoved so powerfully he almost face-planted straight into the photocopier. Sherlock slipped down the wall to the floor and just stared off into space almost catatonically while Anthea continued to cry into Greg's chest. She had always been a strong-willed woman, that was why Mycroft had chosen her as his assistant even when there had been far more experienced candidates, he'd treated her with respect and kindness, always remembered her birthday even when her own brother had forgotten.

“Oh thank God, it's just you people.” All heads snapped to the corner just in time to see Lady Smallwood scurry out from behind a filing cabinet. “Where is Mycroft?”

John dropped down to his knees to wrap his arms around Sherlock as he desperately tried to comfort his lover. Lestrade finally separated from Anthea and raked a hand down his face.

“He's … dead.” He breathed. “Myc is dead.”

The gray-haired woman's eyes went wide in horror and disbelief. “What?! No, no that can't be right.”

Lestrade pointed to the closed-door. “What do you think that shot out there was? It's Hades out there, Artemis is still one of them. She- she _ shot _him. She killed him.”

Lady Smallwood stood a time as she tried to take in what the policeman had said, but finally she steeled herself and accepted his death.

“I always knew she was dangerous. Should have left her in lock up.”

John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead before he spoke. “Why are you here?”

“Hmm, I was in the halls when the internal silent alarm was triggered, I think most of the staff got out but I was trapped, thought they'd not look in here and they didn't. Thought here would be a good place to hide until security dealt with it. ”

Sherlock snorted, the first indication he'd been listening to any of it. “Security isn't going to _ deal with it _. Security is dead and now Mycroft is as well.”

“Please stop.” Anthea whispered.

“Hang on,” Watson lifted an eyebrow, “what silent alarm?”

“Hmm? Oh, it's an alarm which sends a warning to all of our computers and phones.”

“I triggered it while I was at the computer when I pulled up the cameras.” Clever Anthea, always thinking. “Mister Holmes always said that was my most important duty. If enemies ever got in here I was to trigger that alarm and I did.”

“He'd have been proud of you.” Said Lestrade before he'd even known he'd spoken.

Anthea's mouth fluttered a moment as she wiped away slowly drying tears, this was unprofessional and she forced herself under control.

“I think Mister Holmes knew this was coming. He said he needed to tell me something after Inspector Lestrade left but- well, we never got that far.”

John shook his head, arms still around Sherlock. “Couldn't have. Mycroft plans everything down to the last full stop. He wouldn't have let this happen.”

“Not if he told Artemis.” The grieving Holmes pointed out sorrowfully. “She would have told Hades. And now he's dead, we're all dead. Hades doesn't leave survivors.”

Everything had fallen apart. Everything! They'd been locked in a tiny room to essentially await their deaths while Mycroft lay just outside the door in that office full of assassins and killers bleeding out onto that once navy carpet; his body growing cold.


	21. Cat And Mouse

While the hostages and Lady Smallwood attempted to process everything that had happened Artemis remained outside with the rest of the Reapers and Hades' generals as was her place. Hades had no motto, no creed and they took no oath. It wasn't one for all and all for one, just all for Hades itself; any diversion from that and one would be considered a weakness and pruned away from the tree.

The office didn't look turned over like one often found in TV shows, in fact the whole room appeared entirely untouched save for the rich, red blood which soaked into the cheep carpet. She stepped over Mycroft's dead body to approach Nix, a woman in her thirties with a naturally hard face. Not an eye flicked to the now deceased British Government, not Artemis' nor anyone else's in the room; no, to them he was little more than a stain on the carpet now. Unimportant. A picture that had hung on the wall so long nobody looked at it any more but all knew it was there. Artemis tucked her Beretta away once more to await new orders like a good, obedient, little assassin.

"We had begun to suspect you had turned on us but now we see you are a true Reaper."

Nix's words didn't come across as praise exactly, Hades wasn't capable of that, no, it came across more of a statement of fact akin to how someone would calmly state the color of their coat or what their dinner order was. To these people emotion and personality was like color television, pretty and different but ultimately pointless when black and white worked just as well. In a strange and convoluted way they'd conquered selfishness, narcissism, cowardice, frivolity, sexism and a whole host of other negative personality traits people hated but they'd killed life as well, killed humanity, they weren't people, not any more, they were just shells; little more than better coordinated zombies.

"With Kerberos dead we are in need of a new general." Styx pointed out while she efficiently reloaded her weapon; her eyes never flicked up to Artemis once.

"He proved himself weak." She replied as she remembered the blade he'd stabbed into her gut while screaming 'traitor' at her.

"Indeed he was." Said Charon, their chief general. "132601, you are clearly far more capable than Hades has believed. Much more than a simple specialist, and with his death -" Charon loosely gestured to Mycroft body as it continued to do little more than occupy space. "- you are loyal to us unwaveringly. You are to be our new Kerberos. We expect you to control your continent better than your predecessor."

"I am not so weak as him and no traitor." Artemis told the bearded man easily.

The other generals knew Mycroft and MI6 had been behind the base attacks, they didn't need to know Artemis had been the one to kill the former Kerberos, and they certainly didn't need to know she'd let them in. Kerberos had been weak though, clearly, otherwise one Reaper and a bunch of puffed up English soldiers wouldn't have been able to take over an entire Hades HQ with only twelve losses. If that was how Hades intended to run their operations Holmes the elder wouldn't have really needed Artemis' help after all.

Yama nodded, a short curt movement that seemed highly unnatural to her and everyone else. "Yes, probably why you fooled the Iceman so easily."

"I told him at the very beginning I might have been fooling him but he disregarded it instantly. Not an hour into my mission and he had sealed his own death. I thought he was supposed to be a smart man."

It was all true, Artemis had pointed out on several occasions she could have been conning him, had kept putting it back into his mind just to test if he truly trusted her or not, but each and every time Mycroft had sent the idea packing, she'd hardly needed to do anything to make him trust her. It had almost seemed like he'd had an innate faith in her.

"Did you have sex with him?" Asked Nix without a single hint of curiosity.

Artemis nodded. "Yes, he would have grown suspicious had I not. I had not expected him to be quite so good at it though."

A blond foot soldier attempted to grab the bloody suit clad body by the left leg and drag Mycroft out into the hall so he was out of the way, however, he'd hardly gotten more than two feet before Artemis turned her attention to her new subordinate, those dazzling green eyes lifeless once again.

"There are a set of detention cells in the east sub-basement, the gate code is 3089216, put the corpse in there. It's cold and we might need body parts for any biometrics."

The Reaper nodded and hoisted the dead Holmes up onto his shoulder fireman style before he headed out of the office room, Mycroft's arms dangled lamely with the Reaper's movements. The Mighty British Government reduced to little more than a meat puppet; good job he was dead or he'd have been horrified by the damage done to his suit. If ghosts did exist, Mycroft would return as one to the land of the living just to lament his blood covered suit.

Once the door closed behind the Reaper and the body Charon reached for his radio, raised it up to his mouth and spoke in a gruff voice.

"Charon to Hydra, come in."

"_Reading you._" Came the other male general's voice quickly; not out of worry for consequences of being slow but due to efficiency. Cold-hearted efficiency.

"Do you have Project Tesla secured yet?"

Hardly a single second passed before Hydra responded, his voice carried a German accent but it almost certainly fake and just left over from his last job. "_We have a problem._" Well that didn't bode well._ "The file was here and the access code was accepted but this work is incomplete and clearly not our target. Holmes changed the file out._"

Upon hearing such news most evil men's faces would have grown hard and angry, maybe they'd have lashed out, thrown the radio at the wall or shot someone. Charon didn't do any of that, he remained perfectly stoic and unreadable, honestly, that was far more frightening than the anger. People understood anger, saw it coming and knew what to expect, but Charon's lack of personality and rage meant he was capable of literally anything and the unknown always scared people more than what was right in front of them even if it was a gun or a rabid bear. Imagination had always been man's true source of horror.

"Maybe Holmes was smarter than we gave him credit for. This is not a problem though, there is still another with the details of Project Tesla and thanks to Kerberos we still have usable hostages." He told Hydra through the radio. "Find Lady Smallwood."

"_Of course. Hydra out._"

The radio fell silent and Charon returned it to his belt. He looked around at the small army of Reapers still awaiting orders with deep-set brown eyes and straightened up to his full height; maybe just a little taller than Mycroft.

"We break into units and find her, kill anyone in your path but take her alive. The silent alarm was triggered allowing the upper floors to escape so we don't have much time remaining until they attempt to send in re-enforcements. You-" Charon pointed to the Reaper closest the supply closet; a dark-haired man around Artemis age. "- guard the hostages."

Without another word from the American sounding man the remaining foot soldiers and specialists broke down into smaller units and each followed one of the generals out the room until only the guard Reaper remained. They'd find Lady Smallwood, cut, bleed, bruise and burn her until they had what they needed, which Hades didn't imagine would take all that long to be frank, she was just an old woman after all who they doubted could hold out as long as Holmes and he'd broken quick enough. As soon as they had the real Project Tesla they'd claim their coin and move on to the next job. Hades had no motto but if they did it would be that; finish a job and move on to the next. Once they had their fifty-one million – of which they'd already earned thirty million of with Mycroft Holmes' death – Hades would vanish back into myth and legend.

The only difference afterwards being that Artemis now controlled the entirety of Africa's contracts. Mycroft had been correct about one thing, Artemis didn't always play by the rules, he'd just been wrong about how she'd use that ability. Where everyone had expected her to have broken her programming, freed herself, regained her humanity, they'd all come to see that Artemis had just used it to gain a better position within Hades. The other generals had named her Kerberos, given her an entire continent to control. She'd prevented herself from ever being suspected of disloyalty again and provided herself the best way to one day take over from Charon since the generals chose a Charon from within the six of them. Artemis had put herself straight into the path of taking Hades for her own and it was all thanks to Mycroft Holmes, thanks to his touch starved nature and desperate urge to be loved.

Before all of that though they needed to track down Lady Smallwood and access the real Project Tesla. Artemis – or Kerberos as she'd now be known – didn't imagine it would take all that long to track the old woman down and take what they wanted from her. She imagined the woman was probably cowering somewhere under a desk or in a cupboard. Artemis knew Lady Smallwood had been in the lower levels so there wasn't a chance she'd escaped the building when the silent alarm had been triggered. Priority ultra clearance and yet neither Mycroft Holmes nor Lady Smallwood had proven to be all that intelligent; hadn't noticed the wolf wandering around their field of sheep with its teeth on show. No, Lady Smallwood was little more than a rat in a maze, Hades would track her down, they were the cats in this little game. She had her expensive shoes and ability to blindly give orders, but Hades had guns, tactical knowledge, no pain and had killed everyone she could have ordered. Everything she did until the moment they found her was just time-wasting and pointless semantics; a scared woman trying to bide herself time until someone came to her rescue. Security was dead, the three field agents in the building were dead, Mycroft Holmes was dead, all hope was dead. Sooner or later Lady Smallwood would realize she was as well. It was like Artemis had told the British Government all those years ago, death was inevitable so she'd best resign herself to it. She'd always had a thing for the taller Holmes maybe he'd pay more attention to her in the afterlife.

Artemis marched down the hall with four heavily trained Reapers – all of them men – no more than four steps behind her as they cleared out the remaining rooms and darkened hallways in search of Lady Smallwood. It hadn't taken more than two sentences between the generals to split the lower levels into quadrants which they'd each then led a team through. Artemis had spent months in these halls, had essentially had free access to just about everywhere so she knew these corridors like the back of her hand; knew even the smallest places to hide a body. Mycroft may as well have given her a key, a map and a head start.

"Spread out and search the cubicles at the back. People can cram themselves into very small places when their lives depend on it." She orders as she slipped her Baretta back into its holster.

"Yes, Kerberos." Responded the men as blankly as they answered everything else.

She glanced around the darkened room, the four men with their backs to her then glanced down to her watch. She'd have rather their plan had moved a little faster, still, she a job to do and she'd damn well do it. Artemis looked back to her new subordinates, all had their backs to her, no wonder the Lesotho base had been so easy to clear out. They practically invited her to snap each of their necks in turn. Something had to be done about these foot soldiers.


	22. For My Next Trick

While Hades searched the lower levels of the building in search of Lady Smallwood the woman herself remained in hiding along with Lestrade, Sherlock, John and Anthea. None of them had made any attempt to leave the small storage room, just sat on the floor staring off into space – apart from John who kept his attention firmly on his lover – as they all tried to process the horror of what had happened outside.

What hurt Greg the most was that Artemis had honestly made Mycroft a happy man. He wasn't entirely sure how he and the British Government had become friends but they had, in fact Gregory would have gone so far as to say they were best friends. Though he didn't have an intellect like Sherlock or Mycroft had he wasn't blind, he'd seen just how tragically lonely the elder Holmes brother had always been. In the beginning Lestrade had thought about trying to set his friend up, get him a date although, he'd then realized that Mycroft played everything so close to his chest that he didn't know if the man was gay, straight or all of the above; Lestrade had suspected asking would have just reminded Myc of his loneliness. In the end he'd simply decided that all he could do without scaring the elder Holmes and being avoided for the next three years quite successfully was to ignore everything else and focus on just being there for Myc; having a true friend would at least ease the loneliness somewhat. Gregory had done that and Mycroft had opened up – only a little of course – and accepted Greg as a friend; that had meant the world to the policeman. Now though? What was there now? Mycroft had found that love Greg had always wanted for him and it had turned around and put a bullet in his heart. Fuck! Why was everything always so fucking complicated.

Lestrade glanced around the room. Elizabeth was doing her best to hide the fact she was freaking out, Watson hadn't taken his concerned eyes off of his boyfriend, Anthea kept looking at her phone like there would suddenly and magically be a signal or a text from a dead Mycroft. Sherlock though, well, Lestrade hadn't ever seen him this way. He looked human, broken. Sherlock didn't cry, he wasn't the sort of man for that, but he'd gone blank and Greg had spent enough time with Myc to know the younger Holmes was wandering around in his mind probably talking to whatever version of his brother was up there. That actually gave the cop some comfort, as long as Mycroft was up there in his brother's brain to argue and provide advice for Sherlock then the man wasn't really gone; his friend wasn't truly dead.

He could remember the first time he'd introduced his daughter, Violet, to Mycroft. It had been purely accidental, they'd been walking up the street towards some fancy restaurant that Greg had saved up for and Violet had practically walked straight into Myc as he'd left the Diogenes Club. The taller man had always claimed he'd never been good with humans and though Greg hadn't doubted it he'd seen just how good the man was with children. Anything over thirteen probably terrified him but under that and Myc was a pro with kids. At first Greg had been amazed and a little confused but then he'd thought about the seven years between Mycroft and Sherlock and the eight which separated him from Eurus. Hell, Myc had probably been in tailored suits by then and would have, undoubtedly, taken it upon himself to care for his siblings as if they were his own; in the end wasn't that what had gotten him killed?

The detective inspector sighed and ran a large hand through his hair as he glanced up at the door beside him. Mycroft had given them the chance to survive and sitting in that fucking storage closet wasn't saving them, Myc had laid the groundwork and now it was up to them to get out of it. Mycroft may have been the Odin of their little merry band but Lestrade had been a police detective for a very long time, he could do this shit too it would just take him a little longer.

"They never locked this door, we could just stroll right out." He muttered to himself thinking of how quickly they'd get shot.

Sherlock heard his mutterings though and quickly flashed him an angry look.

"Don't be stupid, Lestrade, even you have more brain power than that. We open that door even a crack we'll be dead. Guard, remember?"

That wasn't like Sherlock, it sounded as if he were just giving up and frankly that scared Gregory more than the idea of getting shot did. Despite all his cocky arrogance and logical reasoning Sherlock had always been the hopeful one amongst them. Always been the one to remind them a plan could still work even after its success percentage had dropped into single digits.

Anthea piped up then and finally drew her eyes away from her phone. She sat opposite Greg with her back to the photocopier; a little mascara had run where she'd cried.

"We could use the air duct maybe?"

Everyone's eyebrows shot up then and she took it as a hint to elaborate so she shoved her phone away, scrambled to her feet and pushed the photocopier out the way towards Lady Smallwood to reveal a pretty person sized – conveniently – air duct cover.

"People crawling through vents doesn't happen in real life." Sherlock snapped and for the life of him Greg couldn't work out if his tone was born of having watched his brother die or not having seen this all coming.

"While I seriously doubt Hades has people stationed in there," began Lady Smallwood "I wouldn't recommend going in. The air vent network for the lower levels of this building a very extensive. They're big enough to crawl through, sure, but worse than a labyrinth, you'd have to have memorized the whole thing to avoid getting lost."

John peered at the large vent curiously. "Why are they so big? Aren't most vents tiny."

"We're fifteen meters under ground, Doctor Watson." The gray-haired woman explained as if he was being stupid. "We needed a larger air supply."

Clearly none of them knew a way around the maze of metal inside the walls but still Lestrade pulled the vent cover free with Watson's aid. The pair set it down as quietly as possible beside the photocopier and then stuck their heads inside for a look.

"Maybe one of us could scout it and come back?" Greg suggested when he pulled his head back.

Lady Smallwood scoffed. "You'd get lost and we'd find your body in a few weeks."

_Christ, she's full of light and comfort_, grumbled the policeman's mind. Still, the woman was right, he would get lost. They had suffocation in a dark vent or a bullet in the head through the door, neither option looked particularly great. He sighed as John went back to Sherlock to try and prompt his fluffy-haired lover to use that big brain of his.

"Come on, Sherlock, you're the genius, remember? If anyone can get us all out of her it's you. Look, the door and the vent are both pretty death-y, you're Sherlock bloody Holmes so thing of a way out." John's hands cupped his lover's cheeks to force him to look up at the doctor. "Come on, baby, you've got your hero coat on and everything."

They all knew Sherlock was in shock, or at least his version of it, and didn't really feel like doing anything but he really was their only option.

"Mycroft was the one who pushed me to admit I loved you, you know?" Said Sherlock completely ignoring John's plea for help. "He was always the lonely one and he wouldn't let me be like him. I never thanked him for that, never thanked him for anything. Told me to be with my goldfish." The curly-haired man breathed out a sorrowful laugh. "He couldn't ever find his own goldfish."

Greg sighed. "He stole that term from Artemis."

That got Sherlock to tilt his eyes upwards at him while John grew increasingly more concerned for his lover's state of mind.

"She was his intellectual, quite literally the perfect woman, apart from the fact she beat him."

"Baby, there are innocent people out there still trapped and terrified in this building, we can't just sit her and let Hades pick them off like a video game. And what about Rosie?" The mention of his god-daughter got Sherlock's blue-green eyes to finally perk up and pay attention. "She's already lost her mother, Sherlock, so I'm not going to let her lose her father and her godfather." John pointed to Gregory loosely. "Greg's got Violet."

That was right, he did have Violet, the little girl who'd taken to Mycroft in little more than a second. The little girl who called him 'Uncle Mycie' originally as a joke but it was a term Mycroft had come to quietly treasure. How was he going to explain to Violet that Mycroft was gone?

Suddenly Lestrade dropped into a crouch and grabbed Sherlock by the shoulders so he could shake the younger man forcefully.

"My best friend, your _brother_, died so we all had a damn chance of living! You are not going to throw that away just so you can sit here and sulk." He released Sherlock then and dragged both hands down his face while everyone stared at him for his sudden outburst. "Myc wasn't a good man, he was the best of them and you only ever gave him shit for it. Well, he's dead so you can't blame Mycroft any longer. Grow up and prove what he always knew, you're not a selfish bastard, you're a hero. We'll mourn Mycroft later, that's how he'd have wanted it."

Sherlock stared at the ground for a moment as if he'd vanished back inside his head, probably had, probably was being told the same things by his internal Mycroft. Then, finally, he rose to his feet and fluffed up his hair as was his way before he turned his attention back to Gregory.

"For Myc, for the kids."

Sherlock agreed, for his brother and the children. "Although, he we see Artemis just carry on without me, just keep going because I am going to kill her."

"Sherlock-"

The great detective cut his short lover off. "No, John, she didn't just kill him she toyed with him first. We see her and you just leave me. I am the sociopath after all."

"She'll kill you." Said Anthea softly.

No one said it but they all knew Sherlock didn't care about that, not for a single second. One Holmes had already died, they'd not allow another to pass on.

It was Lady Smallwood who drew them all back to the topic at hand, though ut was with an irritated tone and more for her own preservation than anyone else; not that she wanted anyone else to die.

"Would you just hurry up and think of something. A police inspector, an ex-soldier and the little brother of the greatest mind I've ever known, you should be able to figure this out. Door, vent, hack a hole in the wall, make your minds up."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "No way you'd ever break a hole through that without heavy machinery." He gestured loosely to the white walls. "They're all two feet thick and made of re-enforced concrete. A bomb could go off in this room and it wouldn't make a dent."

Two noises sounded then. The first was a dense thud that died down as quick as it had appeared, a heavy sound like something dropping. The second was a far quieter noise, more metallic, something that wanted to be a clangor but hadn't quite managed to get past being a ding. Whatever the two noises were it forced the hostages to silence instantly and Lady Smallwood hid behind the filing cabinet once more. They had no choice but to wait and see what happened.

Everyone's eyes flicked to the door handle when it jiggled ever so slightly and then it opened. The group steeled themselves for whoever entered. Lestrade wouldn't go down without a fight, nor would John or Sherlock. Imagine their surprise when of everyone who could have shown up it was Artemis the traitor who slipped inside.

"All still alive then." She said only to be cut off by Sherlock launching at her.

His eyes burned with ire but Artemis was too well-trained to let Sherlock Holmes pin her to the door and choke her to death. In a split second of innate reaction she was out of the taller man's grasp and had Sherlock down on the floor on his chest with his arm twisted behind him. Watson and Lestrade raced to grab her before she broke Sherlock's arm or did worse while Anthea shuffled backwards into the corner nearer Lady Smallwood; Anthea had seen enough death for one day.

"Little Assassin, I'd rather you stopped threatening to kill my little brother."

Every single pair of eyes snapped to the vent, Lady Smallwood even charged out from her hiding place to see around the photocopier. There in the vent opening, one leg still inside by a large bag while the other supported himself on the supply room floor was Mycroft. Greg's mouth dropped open. The ginger's clothes were an abysmal mess, tie loose, shirt crinkled partially open and stained in red, as was everything else he wore; a little blood had even managed to splash up his neck and the bottom of his chin.

"Mycroft?" The name practically fell out of Lestrade's mouth

They all just stared at him utterly lost as to what was happening, all except for Artemis who stood up straight as a smug smile donned Mycroft's face.

"Did you miss me?"

Sherlock glared daggers at his elder brother. All that sorrow, fear and pain had instantly faded away only to be replaced by anger.

"You bastard! You total and complete bastard!" Sherlock yelled still pinned down by Artemis.

Carefully Mycroft slipped out of the vent fully and stood to his full height while continuing to be stared at like he'd just taken his clothes off and screamed Debbie for literally no reason. Though his clothes were messy and bloody Mycroft still held himself with his usual authority and prowess; he didn't look bothered in the least by his brother's anger.

"You didn't honestly believe all of that out there, did you?" He straightened his cuff, a completely pointless attempt at tidying up his suit. "Brother mine, I knew you were slow but this is getting serious. Does it hurt being so slow?"

Next thing Mycroft knew he was encompassed by Lestrade who had his arms wrapped tightly around the slightly younger man as if Mycroft would suddenly fade away or turn to dust. Clearly surprised the ginger just stood there a moment until he did finally manage to return the hug though lightly and awkwardly. Once he'd been released he made an attempt at straightening himself again, he couldn't quite stand being such a mess; his OCD was screaming at him no matter how many walls he put up between it and himself.

Mycroft cleared his throat. "Now, if Artemis lets you up are you going to attack her again or are you going to be quiet and do as you're told? If I remember correctly you're not even meant to be here."

The curly-haired Holmes never answered, just grumbled to himself.

"But we saw you get shot." John said plainly. "Point blank in the heart."

The British Government rolled his eyes as Artemis finally let Sherlock up; hadn't this all been very obvious?

He fixed John with a pointed look. "If Artemis was going to actually kill me she'd have put a bullet in my head not my heart, Doctor Watson. They told Artemis they were coming, after that we came up with a plan which would have worked lovely despite them showing up early except for two things."

John pulled a face that said he clearly wasn't sure what was going on. "What things."

"He means us, John."

Mycroft nodded at his little brother's assessment of the situation, the consulting detective and his pet doctor had most certainly been the root of his plan's problems. Then again Mycroft entire life had been like that, Sherlock hadn't always been the cause of his problems but he'd definitely helped Mycroft to forget what those problems were.

"Yes." The elder Holmes confirmed. "You see I could have held out long enough for reinforcements to gather outside and then we could have faked my death. Instead we had to do it far faster and Artemis had to threaten to kill you to stop someone else who would have actually done it killing you. And because of you I had to crawl through almost a mile of vents where as before I could have just used the stairs."

The silver-haired policeman snapped his fingers as realization struck him full force and then he pointed to his friend's bloody chest.

"While we were having lunch, you kept shuffling. I thought your waistcoat was too loose or something but it was that vest, wasn't it? You've had it on the whole time."

Artemis nodded. "I wanted him used to it. Good job I did."

As if to prove the plot Mycroft reached into his tattered, bloody clothes and fidgeted about for a moment only to come back with a mangled bullet which he simply let go of. His chest was bruised to hell but Reapers would have spotted if Artemis had suddenly started using blanks.

Lady Smallwood seemed to have gone from being amazed her colleague had faked his death so well even the great Sherlock Holmes had believed him dead to pissed off she'd not had a full briefing in about thirty seconds flat. Her brow furrowed deeply showing off her age and a her lips pursed.

"Well why didn't you tell _me_?" She demanded.

Myc hardly even spared her a glance. "You've been in Soho all morning. I was going to have Anthea send for you upon your return but, as I said, Hades came in early."

Gregory closed his eyes a second to try and get the timeline in order, his mouth flapped a couple of times and then finally words managed to form.

"Why even bother with all of this?"

Sherlock continued to glare at his brother but he couldn't resist pointing out how simple Lestrade's brain was compared to himself; seemed his arrogance was back where it belonged.

"Obvious, Lestrade, to get all the generals in one place at the same time. He's going to cut the all the heads off at once and use his little murderer as an inside man."

Mycroft sighed, he hated the way Sherlock always acted like Lestrade was a moron, yes his intellect wasn't quite to the level of either Holmes or Artemis but that didn't for one second mean his friend was stupid.

"Well, now we've dumbed it down for the jocks amongst us may we return to the task at hand? Reinforcement are already on the upper levels. Artemis and I need to open the internal doors so they can get down here though."

"We need to do it quickly." Artemis informed. "Soon the generals are going to realize I've gone AWOL and the rest of my unit has suspiciously had their necks broken. When they do they'll come straight here to wipe you out and if they see her," the raven-haired beauty pointed to Lady Smallwood, "then we're fucked."

Artemis was right and they all knew it.

Lestrade had been full of rage just as Sherlock had over the lies and faking Mycroft's death but when he'd paused to see the way she looked at his best friend Gregory didn't know why he'd believed it to begin with. That girl couldn't feel pain or anything else really but there wasn't any mistaking her love for the taller man. He remembered what she'd said way back in the beginning, ' 'Mycroft Holmes is the one man in the world I will not kill. I refuse'. No, she'd never hurt him. Greg wasn't sure how he'd feel about it later but for now he'd gotten his best friend back from the dead and they had to escape this madhouse.

"What do you want us to do, Myc? They took our stuff and we haven't got guns."

The taller man flashed his friend a small smile. "O ye of little faith, Gregory."

That was Mycroft Holmes, always a man with a plan. He reached back inside the vent to grab the large duffel bag that he'd tugged along behind him which he dropped down on the photocopier and unzipped revealing an armory inside.

"Artemis, on the radio you asked for SA80 and an M4 Carbine, which would you like first?"

Well there weren't any prizes for where Mycroft had been during his stint as a corpse, that was why Artemis had gotten him moved.

"The M4." Easily Mycroft lifted the heavy weapon out of the bag and handed it over. "Thank you, British."

It struck Gregory then that even he'd missed hearing her nickname for his friend; odd. Before the silver-haired inspector could think through that strange thought even slightly Mycroft thrust a shotgun out at him then gave John a handgun.

"You intend on shooting people now, do you, Mycroft?"

It seemed that any and all love and regret Sherlock had felt over the treatment of his brother had died a far more permanent death than Mycroft had, he'd returned to his usual self as if the last ninety minutes hadn't ever happened.

"Oh little brother, I may not be a very good shot but I am one excellent weapons valet. Sherlock grab the magazines in there and be ready to do the same for John. Anthea kindly assist Gregory."

Anthea nodded and did as asked. The way her face had been wiped clear and her lack of worry and panic wasn't lost on Gregory who subtly eyed her. Anthea may not have known everything but Lestrade suspected she'd known far more than the rest of them had; she'd drawn their attention to the vent, she'd told them about the silent alarm and she'd quietly suggested to them that Mycroft had known all of this was coming.

"What the hell are you planning, Mycroft?" Elizabeth asked with a gruff tone as if Mycroft had planned all of this just to spite her.

"Artemis is on point. We move to the control room with Gregory and Doctor Watson bringing up the rear and the rest of us in the middle. Only fire if you have to, it would be nice to stay quiet as long as possible."

"You're learning nicely, British."

Myc couldn't help the little, stupid smile that settled on his lips before he leaned in to kiss Artemis' soft lips.

"And you have proven yourself a remarkable actor."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Can we please get this over with?"

John sighed, he knew exactly what his lover was doing, burying his feelings deep, deep down where he'd never have to see them again. Watson would try and talk some emotions out of his lover later when they knew they would all live and he'd snuggled Rosie.

Artemis glanced down the sights of her assault rifle then, happy with it, reached for the door. If they were going to do this they had to do it now before Hades realized Artemis wasn't on their side, had killed at least five Reapers and had played them all.


	23. We Didn't Start The Fire

Very slowly, _very slowly, _everyone obeyed Mycroft's orders and prepared to leave the small storage room. Artemis had already killed the guard and the other Reapers were with the generals searching for Lady Smallwood so they stood a good chance of remaining unseen for quite some time … if they were lucky.

Once everyone was armed or aware of what they needed to do, and Sherlock had hit pause on his plan to glare a hole in his brother's face, they slowly opened the door and let Artemis step out. Clear. Not a single Reaper in sight save for the poor dude slumped dead on the floor; his death had been the thud they'd all heard earlier.

The group kept low and moved slowly as Artemis guided them down the halls towards the control room. The emergence lights were all that lit the halls, small bursts of ominous light that seemed more terrifying in a bizarre way than the dead people littered around the lower levels. Though horrific to see they were all struck by how few there actually were, most of them being security; Anthea's quick work had save a lot of lives that day. Everyone ground to a halt when a single shot fired, it was distant and probably closer to the other side of the building but still they all stopped; Artemis to listen and everyone else to try and keep it together.

As they rounded a corner to their left Sherlock bumped into his elder brother only to shove him forwards silently. Mycroft only just managed to steady himself what with carrying the large bag of weapons Artemis had asked him for. It was then that the quietude between the group ended, Sherlock was angry with his brother that much was obvious but they could have done without squabbling in a hallway while emotionless murderous lingered around almost every corner.

"Sherlock, later!" John managed to both whisper and yell which got Sherlock to begrudgingly obey as they continued.

"It's alright, Myc." Lestrade encouraged quietly as he spared a moment to glance over his shoulder to the taller man before going back to watching their six with John's aid. Didn't matter that Watson was the only army man amongst them, until they were breathing fresh air outside they were all soldiers. "We're just glad you're back. Artemis too, we thought she was tilting pretty sharply bitch-ward."

Silence fell again then and they all paused when Artemis suddenly ground to a halt and hugged the wall. They'd made it so far without running into Reapers because they'd been in Artemis' grid position and she'd killed all her men already, now though, now they'd started to enter unknown territory and more danger. Mycroft kept his attention firmly on Artemis as she listened, she was the reason they'd survive this. Lady Smallwood would have kept her in a cell and never let her out, now she seemed very happy to be following behind Artemis.

She suddenly made a shooing motion with one hand and shoved her M4 into Mycroft's hands. They all took the hint and fled backwards back around the last corner not ten feet away, all except Lady Smallwood who Artemis grabbed forcefully by the arm and kept in place. Two Reapers marched around the corner just as Sherlock's coat disappeared.

"You have located her, Kerberos." Stated the shorter of the two black men in a French accent.

"Yes." Answered Artemis blankly before she shoved Elizabeth forwards so forcefully she stumbled. "Hold her, and give me your radio, mine was damaged."

"Yes, Kerberos." Responded the taller man and unhooked his radio which she took quickly.

The two Reapers each grabbed hold off one of Smallwood's arms forcing a pained hiss from her lips then turned her away intending to start marching her to the other generals but before they could Artemis kicked the taller Reaper in the back of the knee knocking him to the ground and grabbed the other. His tactical vest prevented her from simply snapping her neck so she had no choice but to bring out her blade plunge it straight into the base of his neck killing him instantly. She didn't have to worry about the man she'd kicked, John Watson had been built for war and easily choked the other out.

"Thank you, Doctor Watson." She said quietly as she slid her blade away and accepted her M4 from Mycroft once more.

"Well, can't let you have all the fun, can I?" Amazingly she actually got a smile from the short man but Artemis didn't quite know what to do with it so she instead turned her attention back to her task of keeping them all alive, or at least she would have had it not been for Lady Smallwood jabbing a finger in her face like an angry mother at a naughty child.

"_Never_ use me as bait ever again, do you understand me?" Hissed the elder woman to someone who really didn't care what she had to say.

"I will do whatever is required to keep the Holmes, Lestrade, Anthea and Doctor Watson alive. I am only protecting you as a common courtesy to Mycroft. If you take issue with my work you are more than welcome to fend for yourself."

Silence. Lady Smallwood knew she'd not last five minutes if she wandered off on her own, so, oh so reluctantly, she swallowed her pride and backed off as Greg and John dragged the dead bodies aside out of direct sight.

With Lady Smallwood pacified for a while the group carried on tactically down long halls with Artemis managing to pick her former colleagues off with nothing more than her knife. Then again, they had skirted around the bulk of Reapers by using the connecting doors via the side offices. Much to everyone's surprise they all reached the control room without having set off any alarm, they'd had a few close calls and Gregory had managed to use that take down move Artemis had taught him rather impressively but no one had been forced to fire their weapon once. Considering there was now a whole group of them instead of just Artemis and Mycroft doing this it was going surprisingly well.

Their luck had to run out eventually though and it did so when they entered the small control room to find the door release panel shot to shit. Without that panel there was no way in hell that the large metal door just outside the control room would ever open, and if it didn't open then reinforcements couldn't descend via the stairs or the elevators.

"Ah, wonderful." Grumbled Sherlock as he looked the mess over.

"Not now, Sherlock." John practically pleaded; he just wanted to go home to Rosie.

Artemis ignored the lovers and instead used her blade to force the casing up and off so she could have a look at the wiring. Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he looked at the mass of wires, this really wasn't his area.

"Well it doesn't look that bad but I still don't know what to do with it." Artemis told them honestly while, the others continued to watch out for Hades.

Lady Smallwood snorted, it wasn't a secret that she didn't like the assassin. "Something you can't do? Surely not. Thought you could do everything."

"Not helping, Elizabeth." Mycroft reminded with a sigh, he would sleep for a week when this was over; after he'd mourned his suit of course. "Gregory, your father was an electrician, care to take a crack at it?"

The silver-haired man glanced over at his friend with an expression of pure puzzlement. "How do you- what am I saying, you know everything." Carefully he rested his shotgun on the chair which had long since been abandoned and moved to stand beside his friend and the raven-haired beauty. "I can take a look, he did have me help him re-wire our house when I was a kid."

Mycroft hoped that later when this was all done with Greg would realize this moment for what it was, a time when neither Mycroft himself nor Sherlock with all their smarts and scraps of information stored away in their brains were of any use but he was. Lestrade seemed to think he was dumb, he never admitted it but it was always there lingering in sentences he didn't think too far into, but he wasn't, in that moment he may well have been what saved them.

Suddenly shots rang out and they all hit the deck. Hades was bound to figure all this out eventually and they knew it. Between themselves and Hades was a bullpen of sorts with desk cubicles for security, while wonderful because it provided them some cover to drop behind while Gregory attempted to fix the control panel it also meant Hades had cover as well. All those mercenaries armed to the teeth and with cover against a group of people who had little to no training whatsoever; wasn't exactly even.

Mycroft tossed his brother a pistol from the bag he still had as John and Artemis took either side of the cubicles to avoid them getting flanked and then rushed to cover the middle. The sound of gunshots was deafening, loud and angry. The auburn-haired man wasn't designed for warfare, never had been so he kept his mind firmly focused on doing what Gregory told him so they could get the damn door open. Their own people weren't as heavily trained as Hades' Reapers but once the door opened they'd have them outnumbered and that wasn't something to be underestimated.

"Myc, there's nothing more you can do." Said Greg urgently without looking up from his task. "Go help Artemis."

Frankly he didn't think he'd be much help to her either but he obeyed and grabbed the SA80 from the large bag and Gregory's shotgun. He called out Sherlock's name and as soon as the man glanced over his shoulder at him the shotgun got tossed over, when that was fired everyone took notice. Doctor Watson was a crack shot, leaving him with all the handgun ammo was a good choice. Sherlock though, while he could shoot a target pretty close or unmoving a shotgun with a wider spread was going to be a better choice during this.

Mycroft ignored Lady Smallwood who'd curled up under a table in the control room to hide, even Anthea had been huddled between Sherlock and John providing new ammo when needed but Lady Smallwood seemed frozen with fear. Unfortunate for a woman who always played at being so powerful and in control. Instead of focusing on that Mycroft carefully slid over to Artemis just she ran out of ammo. Like lightning he handed off the SA80 so she could continue picking off Reapers and he set himself to reloading the M4.

"Nix down." She called loudly then.

For a second Myc didn't have a clue what the she was on about then it clicked. Nix was a dead, they were another general down. Killing the generals was what this fire fight, what this whole goddamn plan had been about to start with. Why couldn't Sherlock have chosen literally _any _other day to come and pester his brother? Things could have been so much simpler and straightforward had he shown up tomorrow. Still, Myc had to keep to the job at had just as Artemis was. In all honesty Mycroft was just thankful none of them had been shot. From inside the control room Lestrade swore and the British Government only just heard it over all the bullets flying and that damn shotgun; if the elder Holmes didn't know any better he'd think his brother was having fun.

One of Sherlock's blasts clipped Yama in the leg as she bolted over a table and Artemis took the opportunity to put a round straight through her head.

"Yama down."

That left them with just Charon, Hydra and Styx; Mycroft's plan was half complete.

A large metal click rattled around the room but with all the gunshots and violence Mycroft doubted anybody but himself and Artemis would have been able to hear it. His heart soared as he realized what the dense, metallic noise meant; Gregory had done it! Oh Holmes the elder could have kissed him when that heavy door started to roll open thanks to the hydraulics and a burst of fresh air followed it in closely followed by and uncountable number of Her Majesty's army. The men flooded in and in his relief The auburn-haired man managed to notice Colonel Henley amongst them; who instantly tossed a grenade taking out a couple of the enemy.

"Styx down!"

Mycroft blinked as the shock wave moved around him. What had Artemis said? If Styx was dead then Hades only had two remaining generals, this plan, despite all of its problems may have actually been succeeding. Wasn't that a relief.

Hades knew they were outnumbered and being picked off, three of their generals had just died and their new Kerberos had turned against them. This was all becoming an unmitigated disaster for Hades, an embarrassment. They had no choice but to fall back so that is what they did under Charon's orders.

Anticipating Artemis' needs to the last full stop Mycroft quickly hooked the reloaded M4 over her shoulder as best he could with her still firing the other rifle, then kissed her shoulder softly. He wasn't stupid enough to expect her to leave until the last two generals were dead. Artemis didn't speak or pause to look at him but he wasn't upset, she had more important things to do.

After a calming breath he nodded to Anthea who tapped John and Sherlock on the shoulder in turn getting them to stop firing and take notice that they needed to bug the hell out. Meanwhile Lestrade had managed to fish Lady Smallwood out from underneath her table and with Hades retreating they all managed to dart for the now open door only for soldiers to haul them up the stairs way faster than should have been possible.

Outside they sucked in desperately needed oxygen and found the building surrounded by armored trucks and possibly the entirety of the countries armed forces as well as several ambulances. Paramedics were on Mycroft the instant their weapons has been taken, people panicked over how much blood covered him.

"Get off of me, it's not my blood."

Mycroft hadn't intended to snap but hadn't really had much choice with the insistent fools. In the end he'd ended up sat by a truck with Greg, John and Sherlock while Anthea kindly tried to help the paramedics calm Lady Smallwood down from her panic attack turned angry rage. Mycroft would expect her decoration of war in the morning.

Blue eyes stayed firmly focused on the door they'd been half drug through waiting desperately for Artemis to appear. It didn't matter that Artemis didn't feel things properly, she was still brave and Mycroft loved her with everything he had. Had his brother not show up with his short companion all the generals would have been together and Artemis could have picked them off easily, instead all of this had happened and now he was sat hoping one of his own people wouldn't accidentally shoot her thinking she was Hades. He had no choice but to sit and wait prating to a god he'd never believed in.

Meanwhile Artemis remained inside the lower levels with her mission at the forefront of her mind. The others could pick off the Reapers but Artemis remained focused on Hydra and Charon; they had to die and then Hades would flounder.

A bullet caught her shoulder as she moved up but Artemis didn't so much as flinch. The only way to keep Mycroft safe was to illuminate the remaining generals and Artemis was damn well going to make sure they were. Taking ground from the remaining Reapers got a little easier with the influx of reinforcements but the raven-haired assassin didn't fool herself into thinking this would be easy. More grenades were thrown and she knew there was going to be one hell of a bill to clean this up.

While everyone was set up trying to kill Artemis broke off from them and ever so quietly moved around to the side stairs which she climbed up onto a catwalk area of larger offices and dropped into position by the opaque glass guard rail. Artemis was a sniper by trade and knew how to pick a spot. With Hydra beautifully flanked she fired striking him in the head leaving only the head general; wherever the fuck he'd gotten to. Half a second later the grenade Hydra had pulled the pin on but never tossed went off ending yet more of the Reapers.

The sound of gunfire had started to dull now there were hardly any Reapers left. The battle was far from over but at least she could say they were winning. However, she realized her mistake then as the barrel of a handgun made contact with the back of her head. She'd had to move too far away from her comrades to flank Hydra; she'd been stupid. There was only one person who could have flanked her so dreadfully easily; Charon. Artemis wouldn't go down without a fight though and went for her gun only to be dragged backwards by her long raven hair and find a large knife pressed against her throat, sharp and glinting with half-dried blood.

"You turn on your own kind, why?" Charon demanded.

Odd how he could demand without a single vocal indication of it. Guns continued to fire down below but high up on the catwalk it was practically peaceful as they lingered there in the emergency lights. The stench of gunpowder and blood attacked their nostrils but Artemis and Charon had grown numb to it as children.

"Because my own kind are monsters. boogeymen who take children in the night. You think emotions are weaknesses but they're not, they're strength."

Charon was confused though never revealed any of it on his face nor in his tone of voice.

"You betray us for emotion. For _him. _And now it has gotten you killed."

Artemis took a breath, not to calm herself, she wasn't afraid, but to savor the fact that she died knowing Mycroft Holmes had already won.

"Yes its killed me, but it's also the reason he's alive." She kept her dazzling green eyes firmly locked on Charon's darker ones.

"Pathetic." Charon accused.

To those who were part of Hades any and all emotions were a distraction but love was the worst, love was the one which corrupted and twisted the most. Love could force its host to negate their own survival instinct. To Charon putting Artemis down was the right thing to do so that is exactly what he did, he made to slit her throat deep but as they all knew Artemis wouldn't take it lying down. She managed to hook her arm around his left leg and tripped him backwards onto his ass the spun around with her rifle and fired three quick shots. The first tore through Charon's left lung, the next his heart as he lunged towards her and finally the third to his head almost directly between his eyes. Charon slumped down dead on top of her leaving Artemis to force his heavy weight off of her.

No more Hades generals, none what so ever unless one wanted to could Artemis as Kerberos not that she did. Mycroft's plan had found itself with several problems but it had ultimately worked in the end.

A lump formed in her throat then and she noticed air struggling to get into her lungs. Slowly a hand reached upwards to press against her neck … it came away bloody, lots of blood. Artemis wasn't in pain but it finally dawned on her than he'd bleed out very soon. Charon had been quicker than she'd thought and while he'd not completely gone through her throat he'd done enough. Ironic, they'd killed each other.

Artemis didn't panic, didn't feel the pain and didn't have her body flood with adrenaline, instead she thought logically and ripped Mycroft's scarf from her wrist and tied it tightly around her neck in a desperate attempt to slow the blood. She needed to move somewhere she could be seen before she passed out.

Artemis made it all of three steps before dizziness knocked her to the ground, she'd make it no further before unconsciousness took her.

Mycroft continued to sit beside his friend. His eyes hadn't left the door as he waited for Artemis, the radio they'd been using held tightly in his hands. Holmes the elder was a mess of fake blood, real blood, dust, sweat and destroyed scraps of suit, in any other situation his OCD would have taken over. The British Government would have had to flee to his house, shower and change before it even thought about subsiding, even when Eurus had nearly gotten him killed he'd only allowed himself to open his collar button and barely loosen his tie. However, sitting there with his eyes on the door and Artemis currently MIA he couldn't bring himself to let his OCD out of its box. He needed her to either appear or radio and give the all clear.

The entire time Lestrade watched his best friend, brother and what would probably one day be his future brother-in-law. He'd nodded to questions but otherwise had just sat in silence. With a sigh Greg rested a hand on the eldest Holmes' shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

"She'll be okay, Myc." Greg promised even though he couldn't be sure. "It's Artemis, she'll always

be alright. Never underestimate her." Still Mycroft didn't acknowledge him. "Remember the first time we saw her at Baker Street? Just been shot and yet she was up on her feet like it was a paper cut, that girl is going to be fine and you know it."

"I hope you're right, Gregory." Finally, _finally_, the auburn-haired man looked away from the door to his friend. "You don't have to stay here, I can get them to let you leave."

Gregory shook his head. "Nah, I'm good here, thanks."

Lestrade wouldn't leave Mycroft, not in this state. Sherlock opened his mouth as if to try and get Myc to let him and John return to 221B but John slapped him in the arm quickly silencing whatever stupid or angry comment he'd come up with before I could sound.

"Thank you."

The silver-haired man's brow furrowed in puzzlement as he looked at his friend. "For what?"

"Being stubborn enough to be my friend."

That may well have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to Gregory Lestrade, it certainly beat all his ex-wife's I love yous because Mycroft actually meant what he'd said.

"I'll always be your friend, Myc. I-"

"Shut up!" Mycroft exclaimed suddenly as he lifted the radio up to his ear between them.

Greg rolled his eyes; _moment over then. _

"What is that noise?"

Lestrade leaned in so he and Mycroft were almost pressed together as they tried to hear the faint noise coming from the radio. The John's heart sank, he'd heard that noise before.

"That- that's someone choking on their own blood." Watson sighed.

Mycroft's breathing hitched as utter panic tried to overtake him but then Artemis' voice sounded from inside his mental city, the child one he'd stored so long ago. _Listen more closely, _the teenage version of her muttered at the back of his brain and Mycroft bottled all his worries in favor of obeying. Faintly alongside the sputtering noises were taps, rhythmic taps that he recognized instantly.

"Morse code!" Gregory had been correct, Myc never should have underestimate Artemis, not for a single second. "Edwin."

John's head tilted questioningly. "Edwin? Why would she say Edwin?"

Why indeed. The only Edwin Mycroft could thing of was Sir Edwin but what would that have to do with anything, he'd not even been in the building when Hades had attacked. Mycroft ground to a halt then, it wasn't a person it was a location. It wasn't Sir Edwin himself it was Sir Edwin's office, she was near the office!

"Sir Edwin's office! That's where she is."

Greg's mouth gaped for a moment until words finally managed to tumble out. "She'll be dead by the time someone finds her."

"I'm surprised she isn't already." Said John only to instantly regret his words.

The next thing any of them knew Mycroft was charging back towards the open door and – with surprisingly agility – slipped under a guards attempt to grab him then into the building. Honestly none of them had seen that coming, Mycroft Holmes wasn't the sort to run into the trenches, he'd pull his weight if he found himself in them but as a choice he'd never go in.

"He'll get himself killed." Greg raked a hand down his face then went rushing after his friend and ended up punching the guard.

Sherlock crossed his arms across his chest stubbornly, after the shit Mycroft had pulled earlier Sherlock wasn't inclined to do anything to aid his brother. John just stared at him with an unreadable expression.

"Stay here if you want and sulk but neither of them will know what to do to help her."

Case made Doctor Watson ran after the others, he was a doctor, he'd always help no matter what had happened between them all. He wasn't stupid, he knew Sherlock wouldn't be able to stop himself following and he couldn't.

The three men all caught up with Mycroft quickly as they followed him towards Sir Edwin's office. One to protect his friend, one to keep his Hippocratic Oath and the last simply because sitting outside and waiting would have been boring; and maybe a little because he did genuinely love his brother not that Sherlock would ever admit it.

They followed the gunfire until they were not too far from the thick of it, soldiers saw them but were much too focused on trying not to get shot than pausing to kick the Holmes, a doctor and a DI out. That was how Mycroft and the others managed to get around the desks and up the stairs to the catwalk, passed the bodies of Reapers and British soldiers.

There at the end of the fenced catwalk lay Artemis on her back in a growing pool of her own crimson, scarf tied to slow blood loss, and sure enough she wasn't five steps from the door to Sir Edwin's office. In that moment all the gunfire and the shouts, the bangs and the cries died, Mycroft went deaf to them as he dropped to his knees beside Artemis, her hand still on the radio where she'd been taping. Mycroft might have been in shock but the others weren't, Lestrade pulled his best friend backwards so John could slip firmly into doctor mode and do what he could while Sherlock alternated between looking at Artemis and keeping an eye out for anyone who wanted them dead. Expecting the worse Greg grabbed Artemis' SA80 just in case.

"She can't breathe." John announced like they hadn't all already figured that out. "Mycroft get me a biro or something."

Despite his hands being covered in the blood of the woman he loved Mycroft leaped into action, he vanished inside Sir Edwin's office only to appear a couple of seconds later with the clear tube from a biro and it was wet.

Watson's brow furrowed as he took it. "Is that vodka?"

"You don't want to know where Edwin's pens have been and the man is a secret drinker."

Artemis could feel Mycroft kneel down beside her again and take her hand into his own, her blood making his touch almost sticky. Green eyes did their best to turn to him as something sharp jabbed into her throat. Artemis knew she was in pain, always knew about the pain, but she still couldn't feel it. No, what bothered her was the pressure in her head, too much or too little she wasn't quite sure.

Mycroft made to say something but Artemis would never know what it was, not since everything faded to back and those stunning emeralds slipped shut.


	24. When The Sun Has Set, No Candle Can Replace It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a quote of George R.R Martin ... who needs to hurry the everloving fuck up and finish his books! *clears throat and calms down'

After he'd carried Artemis bloody and unconscious out to an ambulance, John had insisted upon checking on Mycroft's pinky finger which had been broken several hours before. The entire time Sherlock had complained, so after they'd all made it to the hospital and a doctor had looked them over Mycroft had given clear orders to let his little brother and Watson return to Baker Street essentially to get them out of the way for a while. Of course he'd gotten a covert security unit to watch over them, Missus Hudson and Rosie just to be safe. He didn't foresee Hades going on a revenge mission – that really wasn't how they operated – but Mycroft also didn't want to completely rule it out just in case.

Meanwhile Mycroft had remained at the hospital in a large, bland, waiting room sat on possibly the worst chair he'd ever sat it still splattered in both fake and Artemis' blood. However, he'd wiped much of it from his face and hands thanks to Lestrade finding a box of keenex from seemingly nowhere; the policeman knew his friends OCD must have been screaming up a storm. The British Government hadn't thanked his friend, just continued to stare blankly down at the floor while Artemis remained in surgery; truth be told, Greg wasn't even sure Myc knew he was there.

Mycroft walked slowly along the gas lamp lit streets of his mind city, straight down the middle fully aware no cars ever came despite there being several parked, all of which looked like they'd have been happily at home in the thirties or forties. It was night as always and the gas laps provided just enough white glow to see by as he made his way towards a place he knew well, a perfect copy of his own home. As soon as he stepped inside the color flooded back leaving him stood at the bottom of his stairs, he didn't speak, didn't straighten his bloody suit, just slowly walked upwards and down the hall to his bedroom. There were several more floors than inside his actual house but soon he made his way to the right room without a problem. As he stepped closer the air grew colder, icy even, then he heard a crunch and paused a moment, blue eyes were cast downwards to see a crumpled scattering of snow which had started to emerge from underneath his bedroom door. Mycroft took a calming breath and reached for the chilled door handle then stepped inside to find himself in the cabin again, same sound of a blizzard outside the window, same harshness to the air, same horrendous seating options. He smiled weakly when he spotted the elder Artemis sat on the couch waiting for him and instantly noticed the fact she now had the handcuffs dangling loosely from her wrist whereas before it had been the younger one; speaking of the younger one.

"Where is the other Artemis?" He asked as he closed the door behind himself leaving only the cabin.

The fake Artemis didn't miss a beat. "You've made some changes since you last came here. You read my file so the younger one was disturbing you." She held up her arm to show off her new jewelry. "You joined us together, an approximate amalgamation, or did you not notice?"

Mycroft sat down beside her, well, fell really but he didn't care, didn't have the energy to. He let his head tip so far backwards that it touched the cabin wall and forced his Adam's apple to become far more apparent.

"The last few days have been somewhat hectic, I must have deleted it." He replied in a very out of character tone, one almost akin to defeat.

The fake Artemis looked at him with those dazzling green eyes of hers. "I thought it was just Sherlock who did that."

"Usually it is, that's why I have a notebook, write down the things I've deleted from my memory or didn't put in to begin with."

Why was he telling her this? None of it was important and she was a construct of his mind so she already knew it. Avoidance, that's what it was, pure and simple avoidance.

"You're eschewing the subject, British, I'm in your head remember."

The elder man sighed and straightened up again, he couldn't ever hide anything from Artemis, mental copy or not. Still, he didn't want to think about her on that table with surgeons poking around inside her throat; not just yet.

"Say something nice to me, it's been a horrible day."

"No." She responded simply without any hint to emotion whatsoever.

Mycroft furrowed his brow as he looked at her properly. "No?"

"No." Artemis repeated. "Because I'm not the real Artemis and so you'll not take it as a complement since your brain came up with it. Besides, you're not the sort of man who needs bolstering."

She had him there so Mycroft didn't try to argue, he knew better than to argue with Artemis, even in his head he'd lose the fight. They both knew why he was really there.

"I can't seem to stop almost killing you, can I?" He said sorrowfully.

For a long time Mycroft just sat there staring at the uneven wooden floor as he remembered that since they'd met he'd hurt her far more than she'd ever hurt him. Everything he'd done and she'd never harmed him save for a lungful of snow and a broken pinky finger.

"I've shot you twice, I've set you on fire. You've taken bullets for me and now look at you, you're lying in an operating room with most of your blood on my suit rather than in your veins."

The auburn-haired man cast his blue eyes down at himself, he truly was covered in blood and dishevelled; a mess. He quickly put up another wall between himself and the voice begging him to change and shower, scrub the blood away and be clean. He felt her reach for his hand then and that horrid little voice blinked out of existence as he looked at where her hand held his.

"Danger is what I've always know, danger is normal to me." She told him honestly. "Hades trying to kill you isn't your fault and the real one of me being operated on isn't your fault either. Stop blaming yourself and stop hiding in here, I told you before, you're not a coward." Artemis truly didn't suffer fools.

"Still haven't shown you your file though, have I? Maybe I am something of a coward." He retorted quickly without taking his eyes from where she held his hand.

"No, that's a lie. You haven't show me that file because you don't want to upset me. I can't feel unhappy, British." She reminded softly. "I can't be upset."

"Now who is lying, hmm?" Those blue orbs finally met the polished emeralds he adored so much. "We're both fully aware you can feel far more than you let on, you might not understand what it is but it's there."

"You love me, that's what is the most important. You've moved me out of the subway and into your home, into your _bedroom_, there's no getting away from you loving me now. You've stopped hiding it from yourself."

The assassin leaned over then, her warmth a welcome change to the cold air around them, and kissed his cheek. When she pulled back he was certain that her eyes were bolder.

"You're scared I'm going to die, but everyone dies, Mycroft." Her voice was so quiet, just a whisper. "And if you think you hate yourself for hurting me now, what would it feel like if I died and you weren't there because you were inside your brain?"

Suddenly he felt her hands on his back – which was odd because there was a wall behind him and she as sat on his left – then he was pushed, sharply and without hesitation. Mycroft braced for impact on the hard, wooden floor but it never came, instead his eyes fluttered and he glanced around finding himself still sat in the waiting room at the hospital. No one had ever been able to just _push _him out of his mind city before.

He blinked a few times as the standard hospital sounds returned to him and the lights seemed harsh compared to the cabin's almost totally absent light. Mycroft registered a weight on his shoulder, warm, solid, and when he looked up to his right he found it was Gregory sat beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You back with me now?" He asked with a gentle smile; poor man looked exhausted.

Myc straightened instantly which got Greg to take his hand away, back went the mask Mycroft always hid behind.

"My apologies, Gregory, I was -"

Lestrade cut him off. "Yeah, your mind palace-y thing. I've known you and your brother long enough to recognize the difference between being ignored and you and Sherlock being in your heads." The policeman paused a second, hardly even that. "You were talking to her, weren't you? Talking to Artemis."

Myc gave a little nod, there wasn't any point lying to the slightly elder man. "She helps to get me seeing the bigger picture again."

"Yeah, partners can do that a lot. Look, there's been no news yet but I went and asked a nurse and she said that the surgery shouldn't be too much longer."

Myc nodded with gratitude. "Thank you, Gregory, for checking, for staying, you didn't have to."

Sherlock had cleared out almost the second he could, was angry with his elder brother and probably would be for quite some time. John, Mycroft had fully understood, the man needed to be with his daughter; Rosie wasn't even two yet.

"I'm your best friend, Myc, of course I'm staying." Greg looked at him like Mycroft was being stupid. "I'm going to stay right here on this unnecessary uncomfortable chair until that doctor comes in here and tells us she's all right. She's going to be okay, Myc, I don't think a nuclear war could take that girl out."

That comment actually got the auburn-haired man to breathe out a laugh, he really was thankful for Gregory's presence, it was soothing and stopped him permanently retreating into his head until Anthea found him and hit him with something heavy.

"She told me once that it would take more than 'one skinny British dude with a gun' to kill her. Well Charon wasn't a skinny British man, he was the leader of Hades."

Lestrade sighed. "And she killed him. Yes, she got hurt but Artemis is alive and he's in a body bag. I know today didn't go how you wanted what with Hades storming the place early and Sherlock being a total prick but you still won." He stressed every word to the younger man because he was Mycroft Holmes' best friend and it was his job damnit! "Though I'm probably going to be pissed off tomorrow when I remember you made me think you were dead."

That got the dishevelled man to finally look up at the silver-haired one fully, apologetically, and instantly he felt a little bit better. Gregory Lestrade had become something of a fixed position for Holmes the elder, had provided perspective and grounded him.

"I am sorry, Gregory, I had intended for you to have left the building by then."

"I know, I know." Lestrade raked a large hand down his face. "But I had started to word out what I was going to say to Violet when I told her that Uncle Mycie was dead."

Mycroft's expression was unreadable, at least to most people anyway, Greg knew Myc's expressions better than Sherlock did – possibly better than his own mother did – and was completely aware the one splashed across the younger man's face was one of an apology mixed with a little confusion.

"Well at least now you won't have to." Was the best attempt at lightening the mood he'd got? "And why does she insist on calling me 'Mycie'? I tolerate Myc but 'Mycie'? It sounds like an 80s pop star."

Greg breathed out a laugh. "It's because she was six when she came up with it, Myc, and because she adores you."

"I don't see why, children usually take no notice of me or run away."

Greg knew exactly what was happening, Myc didn't want to think about Artemis so he'd turned his attention fully to Violet in order to avoid. Lestrade would let him do it a little longer, Mycroft Holmes having a breakdown wasn't something he or anyone else wanted to see, that and Greg was a nice guy who agreed that Myc actually needed a distraction from Artemis' surgery.

"The first time we met she was scared of you, really tall guy in a suit worth more than my car but you showed her that magic trick remember, and ever since she's loved you." Lestrade smiled at the memory. "I wasn't the one who gave her the term 'uncle' she came up with that on her own."

"I suppose I should be honored then." Said Myc after a few seconds.

Greg nudged him with his shoulder. "There's still time for you to have kids, Myc."

Mycroft froze and looks horrified at Greg who just found it all very amusing.

"As If I'd make a good father, besides, I work far too much and still need to take care of Sherlock."

The silver-haired man nodded, at least that last bit was true. "Yeah, but you would be a good dad. You're great with Violet and I've seen you at Baker Street when you think no one can see you making Rosie laugh."

"No I don't." Mycroft announced a little too quickly as he refused to meet Gregory's gaze.

"Yes, you do. You may not be good with people but you're very good with kids." Lestrade smiled to himself. "I've had a bit of a think as to why actually and I've got a theory."

Mycroft let his head fall backwards against the wall similar to how it had in his mind city. "Do enlighten me, Detective Inspector."

Greg folded his arms over his chest and leaned back a little bit as they continued to wait.

"Well, kids aren't trying to get anything out of you, are they? Not properly, I mean. They don't have any political agendas or anything like that." Lestrade gestured occasionally with one hand despite his arms where still crossed. "They're not trying to get secret information out of you. All the time you're running the country, or the world or whatever the hell it is you really do and it's stressful, there's hardly anyone you can trust. That's why I'm your only friend because you know I honestly don't care, I just want people safe. But when you're around kids, especially younger ones you can stop being Mister British Government and relax, be yourself. That's why you like those old movies too, everything was simpler back then. Back then everything really was just black and white, now it's all just gray."

Mycroft was silent for a few moments as he took in his friends words. "You're becoming quite good at deducing, Gregory."

Lestrade knew that was as close as Myc would ever come to admitting the other man was right about everything he'd just said, so Greg took it and counted it as a win.

The silver-haired man shrugged. "Well, you're brother likes to think I'm a total moron but I am a DI for a reason."

The door way on the other side of the waiting room opened before Myc could – once again – inform Lestrade that just because his intellect wasn't on the same level of his own or Sherlock's didn't mean he was dumb. A brunette woman entered, a short one too, probably would have been dwarfed even by Doctor Watson. Lestrade waited eagerly to hear that everyone's favorite assassin was alive and recovering but Mycroft had quickly turned his considerable skill to deducing everything about this woman and what she had to day; he was speaking before the doctor could even open her mouth.

"She's alive but heavily sedated with no brain damage or at least none you're currently aware of. You had to pump blood out of her lungs and she had internal bleeding."

The doctor's eyes went wide. "How did you-?"

Lestrade cut the doctor off knowing they needed to stick to the subject rather than getting distracted. "He does that."

The doctor paused a moment to take that on board and then spoke again clearly with a tone practised for a bedside manner.

"I am Doctor Sammel, and you're right, Mister Holmes, she's out of surgery and there shouldn't be any lasting brain damage. Whoever provided her medical attention before she got here did so very well. We've kept her sedated in order to prevent her moving and ripping any of the stitches until they've started to heal. Her shoulder is going to be fine as well. She was shot in the abdomen also, and has lost a _lot _of blood. I've managed to remove all the bullets and stop the internal bleeding. Frankly I'm surprised she kept moving after that gut shot."

"She probably didn't notice." Muttered Mycroft which got Doctor Sammel to stare at him in puzzlement.

She opened her mouth to question him as to how someone could just 'not notice' being shot in the stomach. In truth they'd all been a little suspicious of where this girl had come from when they'd cleaned away the blood and found all the scars. Had the government soldiers not been stationed outside the operating theatre they'd have assumed her to be a victim of violent abuse. However, before Doctor Sammel managed to say anything Mycroft had once again interrupted.

"May I see her?"

Doctor Sammel nodded. "You can see her if you'd like but, as I said, she's going to be out for a while."

The bloody man nodded in understanding. "Thank you."

"I'll have someone come and show you to her room." She paused a moment to look down at Myc's hand. "Would you like me to get a nurse to take a look at your finger, Mister Holmes?"

Myc shook his head as he glanced at the pinky finger Artemis broke. "No, thank you, Doctor Watson already patched me up."

The short doctor made to leave but paused with her hand on the door handle and turned back to face Mycroft; realization had started to work its way across her face.

"Hang on. _Holmes_, like the detective in the newspapers? Sherlock Holmes?"

Myc didn't respond, clearly done with the conversation so Greg spoke for him.

"Sherlock's his idiot little brother."

Remembering the armed guards in the building Doctor Sammel chose to say nothing more and instead just leave. As soon as the door was closed behind her Myc breathed out a sigh of relief, Artemis was alive. Alive! She would be fine. She'd survive, she'd live just like she always did.

The policeman rose to his feet, said something Mycroft didn't hear then held out a hand to help the younger man up because, even though he'd never for one second admit it Greg knew his friend was in shock. Mycroft took the proffered hand and stood only to tug down his waistcoat, a pointless action since he was still a mess but it was probably an unconscious muscle memory.

A nurse entered then, this one much older than the doctor and far more ready for retirement, she had the sort of face that said she'd cared and devoted herself all her life to the nursing profession but now just wanted to sleep; Mycroft saw a lot of himself in this woman. She took them down a series of halls and up a flight of stairs before she finally stopped outside a private room already with the white door flanked by two armed guards which seemed to catch the nurse off guard. Cautiously she pushed the door open and stepped inside with the government official and detective inspector close behind her.

There they saw Artemis. The girl was unconscious just as they'd been told laying on her beck with a mass of bandages around her heck and clearly a lot more underneath her hospital gown. Mycroft's heart fell, she looked so pale.

Made uncomfortable by the silence the old nurse pointed to a plastic bag over on the chair filled with Artemis' bloody things, gave the obligatory 'call if you need anything' then essentially fled from the room back to her regular duties.

Almost too quietly Mycroft went to the bag and opened it so he could take out his scarf which was now entirely covered in dry blood and had been cut in half by doctors. Artemis had taken care of that scarf for fourteen years and now look at it; trash.

Greg stood on the other side of Artemis bed so he could just look at her, she really was awfully pale and he wasn't sure if how slowly her chest rose and fell was right or not. Artemis really had been to war.

"Well, this is completely destroyed." Mycroft said more to himself than Greg but still the cop looked over ta his friend and the bloody scarf.

"She looks peaceful like this, I've never seen that from her." He said to draw his friends attention back where it belonged.

Fortunately Mycroft set down the ruined scarf and returned to Artemis' bedside and smiled, actually smiled as he looked at her slumber.

"She always looks at peace when she's asleep. Treasure this, Gregory, no one ever gets to see her asleep."

Ever so carefully he brushed her long, raven hair away from her forehead and bent down to kiss her softly, lovingly. Had Sherlock or John been there Myc probably would have remained very rigid until they'd left, but this was Gregory in the room with him, his best friend, the man who was allowed to see that Mycroft really did care, was capable of love and kindness as well as all the other things the Iceman supposedly couldn't do.

"Amazing she went so long without air." Lestrade mused aloud which got Mycroft to raise an eyebrow. "John was saying she should have suffocated but here she is. I'm starting to think she's Captain America or something."

"Oh, I'd say she's more Mockingbird-esque."

So, Lestrade would unpack exactly how Mycroft Holmes of all people knew Marvel comic characters at a later date.

"She was trained to go without air for much longer than regular people, that's probably the only reason she's not dead." Replied Mycroft. "Well, that and the fact she's not prone to panic."

Lestrade opened his mouth to speak but the taller man got there first. "You should go home, Gregory, it's getting late and going to start raining shortly. You are supposed to have Violet tomorrow."

Long ago the silver-haired man had stopped asking how the hell Mycroft knew so much with little more than a sideways glance; now it was just a neat little magic trick his best friend did.

"I can stay if you want me to."

Mycroft shook his head but doesn't look a way from her, he was fully aware Gregory would sit there for hours more without complaint if he asked him to.

"No, thank you, but no. You spent today thinking you'd die and never see your child again. Go home, wash, eat, sleep, then tomorrow take Violet to the zoo like she wants."

Sleep really did sound good to Lestrade, a shower even more so. "You sure you'll be alright?"

The British Government nodded as hospital machines continued to ping and beep and announce things all around the building.

"I'm always all right."

"No you're not, you just pretend because that's what everybody expects from you." Lestrade sighed, he really did know Mycroft better than even his own brother.

"I've told my brother several times." Said the taller man in a rather oddly distant tone.

The detective inspector's brow furrowed with confusion. "Told him what?"

"That caring is not an advantage." Beautiful blue eyes flashed up to Greg's rich brown ones. "I never said I didn't care anyway. Go home, Gregory."

"Okay," the elder man relented, "I'll text you later and check in."He pointed a finger at his friend then, a clearly practised one which said he wasn't leaving room for argument. "You need _anything_ and you call me."

Mycroft nodded. "Of course. Thank you for waiting with me, Gregory. Go home."

Greg clapped Mycroft on the back after he'd rounded the bed in what he hoped would be a lingering mark of comfort then headed out just as it started to rain, a storm had been teasing all day.

Alone, he looked down at Artemis so vulnerable in the bed. He pulled the armchair a little closer to the bed and sat himself down so he could just watch her, so beautiful, so scarred. For a time he just watched her while he clung to her pale hand and let the rain slowly worsen outside. The heavens opened forcing heavy drops down from the heavens that splattered rhythmically on the large glass window to his right; practically its own theme music. He felt sticky and uncomfortable where blood had dried on his clothes and skin, his shirt was practically adhered to his torso now. Mycroft almost couldn't cope with it, _hated_ it, but he needed to sit with Artemis until his brain had finished rebooting at least. Finally he decided to speak.

"All the reapers and generals were killed, Artemis, no one is aware of your involvement as far as I can tell so it is likely you'll be presumed dead along with everyone else. Hades isn't quite dead yet, just gone off to lick their wounds. However, without the generals to keep things functioning they'll be more focused on trying to survive rather than us, at least for a while. It'll give us time to track their faces back and how they got into the country, what names they used. Might not give us an exact location of their other continental headquarters but it will narrow the field significantly. I'll no doubt be torn a new one by most of my colleagues but, well, everyone's right, I run this country and and they'll damn well be quiet when I tell them to be." He paused a moment to take a breath. "When you're well again I'll show you your file as well, I told myself I'd show you after Christmas and then the moment was never right. There are new files in there as well, very new for children no more than six months old. Hades clearly has far more child training centres than we believed, and I for one would very much like for those children to be returned home. You'll be back to perfect health by the time we track those facilities down though, I'm certain that Gregory is quite right, not even a nuclear war would stop you."

He looked out the window again at the rain, gray clouds like something out of The Tempest. This theatrical display seemed far more akin to Sherlock's personality than his own.

"All those people out there and they have no idea what happened today, even the ones who saw the ambulances and military outside the building will have dismissed it as a fire or some sort of training exercise. No one knows that you almost single-handedly destroyed one of the oldest and most ruthless organizations this world has ever known. They have no idea." Mycroft took a calming breath and turned to look at his beloved once more. "Of course that's how we want it, right Artemis?"

No answer, not a single one. Of course Artemis didn't answer they'd filled her full of enough sedatives to knock out a pissed off elephant. He just continued to ignore the sticky feeling and instead hold Artemis' hand tightly. After a few moments he rose a little from his chair so he could once again kiss her lips then rested his forehead against hers a short time.

"You don't die, you hear me? That is an order, Artemis. You. Don't. Die."

~X~

The next morning Anthea walked into the hospital room with coffee and a briefcase to find her boss slumped forwards in his chair beside Artemis with one hand holding firmly holding hers while the other was rested underneath his head on the bed where he'd – at some point – passed out. Anthea hardly spared a glance at her boss, just set the case she carried with her down on the table beside Artemis' things. Quietly she moved around her employer who honestly couldn't have been comfortable, and crouched a little so she could essentially waft the scent of coffee towards his nose. Long ago Anthea had learned not to try waking Mycroft by touching him and when he was this out of it calling his name wouldn't do any good either; also shouting didn't seem appropriate in a hospital so early in the morning. After a long series of peace talks roughly a year after she'd started working for him Anthea had found the poor man passed out due to the four days he'd not slept in, she'd gone to wake him with a gentle hand on his shoulder only to be elbowed rather harshly in the gut for her trouble; all an accident of course. Having learned her lesson Anthea had gone on to figure out easier ways of waking her boss; not that he made a habit of passing out.

A few moments went but until his nostrils twitched and Anthea stepped backwards just as his cerulean eyes fluttered open. Less than half a second passed before he remembered where he was and what was happening then sat up straight to finally turn his attention to the young woman at his side, a slight impression lingered on his cheek from the ring he always wore.

"Morning, Sir. Coffee?"

Nothing in her voice gave away anything which had happened the previous day, that was why Myc admired Anthea so much, she had a wonderful way of compartmentalizing. That and he'd given her enough to figure out what he was planning right before Hades had broken in.

"Wonderful, thank you."

Mycroft took the proffered cardboard cup and drank down a large gulp which practically burned his throat but he didn't care; worse things had been happening to people's throats lately. Anthea always knew just how he liked his coffee, black as night with just a touch of sugar to drive away the bitterness and satisfy his sweet tooth without going overboard. In truth Holmes the elder had always been and always would be more of a tea drinker, but after yesterday Anthea had made the right call to bring him some hard caffeine. He remembered once about three years previous after dealing with an issue in North Korea she'd randomly appeared with a can of _Monster_ he'd stared at her questioningly for a moment only to then chug down the entire thing and feel as though he'd returned to life. If Mycroft Holmes could say anything whole-heartedly it was that Anthea was by far the best assistant he or anyone else could ever ask for.

While he continued to drink his warming coffee Anthea returned to the case and clicked it open without a word, she could feel Mycroft's eyes on her but that was nothing new and it wasn't like he ever ogled her or anything; no, Mycroft Holmes was too much of a gentleman for that. Carefully she took out a neatly folded pile of clothes and went to stand before her employer with them.

"There is an on-call room at the end of the hall, I've already made arrangements for you to use it to shower and change in." She informed him simply.

The tall man finished his coffee then stood, set the cup down and took the clothes. "Thank you."

He pressed a quick kiss to Artemis' forehead as she continued to slumber before he made his way to the ajar door. He stopped and looked back just before he quite reached it though and Anthea instantly noticed the kindness in his eyes.

"Oh, Charlotte."

"Yes, sir?"

"Happy birthday. Your present-"

She cut him off with a soft smile. "Top left drawer of your office desk, I know, sir."

He was gone then for a much needed shower leaving Artemis alone with his assistant. She moved the empty cup into the garbage then sat down in the chair Mycroft had slept in. Mycroft Holmes was a strong man who demanded the best of those who worked for him but he was also the only one who remembered her birthday no matter what was going on around him, no matter how badly the world was burning. He also only ever used her real name when he was fully aware there wasn't anyone else around to hear it. As she sat there she remembered what DI Lestrade had said while they'd all been in that storage closet, Mycroft Holmes really was the very best of men.

"You'll need to hurry up and get better." She said to Artemis as she took out her cell phone. "You die and he's going to lose his shit and I for one don't want to see what he becomes with a broken heart."

With that she opened her phone and started to type while she waited for her boss to return, Artemis was injured, didn't mean Holmes the elder didn't still have work to do.


	25. Life Goes On

The days went on much the same after Artemis had been injured, Mycroft continued to work hard, as he always did, to put England back together while tracing Hades before going to sit with Artemis for at least an hour every day. Lestrade had stopped by one or twice to check on her as well which had been much appreciated by Mycroft. On one such visit Gregory had also confirmed that the dolphin he'd bought for Violet at the zoo had been christened 'Mycroft' because dolphins were smart and so was he; child logic. While the British Government had been confused he'd not complained.

As imagined Lady Smallwood and the rest of his colleagues had done everything in their power to yell, scream and throw a fit at him, but Mycroft had hardly shifted in his chair as they'd glared at him over the conference table. They had priority ultra clearance and that meant they signed paperwork which sent people to their deaths every day, this had just been putting their own lives on the line for a change; it was too close for comfort for them. 'You can't just go acting on your own, Mycroft, you can't just decide things as you please', they had been Smallwood's words and she was correct. Although Mycroft hadn't just come up with it all on the fly, he'd carefully calculated it with Artemis and even relocated some staff off site – oh how they'd grumbled and complained at the time – and before he'd truly put any of it into motion Holmes the elder had personally gone to Downing Street to have the Prime Minister sign off on it. Just because Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin hadn't been provided a gilded letter regarding it didn't mean that Mycroft had staged some sort of coup d'état.

With Artemis in the hospital the auburn-haired man had come to realize something he'd never noticed before, Mycroft Holmes was lonely without her. Had he been this lonely for the fourteen years they'd spent apart? Had he just buried it deep enough not to notice? Myc didn't wish to think too deeply about it, didn't want to lose himself in his head and ponder if Sherlock had been correct.

Speaking of Sherlock, the younger Holmes continued to refuse to speak with him. While Mycroft wasn't in the least bit surprised about that it had still irritated him somewhat;_ bloody child. _Much to his gratitude John had stepped in as the adult of his and Sherlock's relationship – as usual – and promised to calm his lover down and talk to him. If anyone could talk Sherlock around it was most certainly Doctor Watson.

In the wake of Hades' massive blow Mycroft had been forced to double down on his work, Anthea had gone so far as to allocate an entire filing cabinet just to them. Thankfully Lady Smallwood and Sir Edwin had calmed down about the Hades breach after hearing about the Prime Minister which had fortunately allowed their work to return to normal really rather quickly, in their line of work they couldn't dwell on things. Carpets were quickly ripped up, bodies laid to rest and by the end of a week no one would have ever suspected what had happened there. Then again, they were British, they didn't have all that stiff upper lip stuff for nothing. Besides, wasn't as if Mycroft was bothered about the angry glares Lady Smallwood shot him when she thought he couldn't see her, she'd soon enough accept that what he and Artemis had done was the best and only plan to deal with Hades once and for all; no Hades meant no priority orientated assassins trying to kill her. Mycroft regretted so many deaths, of course he did, but those people hadn't died for nothing, there hadn't been any other way to gather all the generals together and now Hades would finally fall, those people had died so others didn't have to, so children weren't brought and kidnapped only to be tortured and essentially enslaved. Is it right to sacrifice the lives of the few for those of the many was the age-old question, the constant moral dilemma. Mycroft had answered that question during his very first year with MI6. No, it wasn't _right_ to sacrifice them … but sometimes it was the only option.

Despite the annoyance and irritation which still lingered in his colleagues eyes every time they spotted him Mycroft turned his attention to taking care of a small problem for the CIA while he worked on Hades long into the night, he needed to make as much progress as he could before Hades managed to regroup which really wouldn't take long at all.

Eventually, _finally, _came the day when the doctors wanted to wake Artemis up from her sedation. The second Mycroft had received the call he'd excused himself from his meeting – Anthea would bring him the notes – and had quickly made his way to the hospital where the suit clad man had shot up the stairs to her room taking them practically three at a time. As soon as he reached her room he found Doctor Sammel stood outside pretending the armed guards weren't there while she spoke to Lestrade; Myc raised an eyebrow at his friend's presence.

"Gregory?" He enquired as the taller man came to a stop beside his silver-haired friend.

"Myc, there you are." Lestrade flashed him a little smile. "The doctor was just telling me that when Artemis comes round we should make sure she knows not to speak."

To be honest the doctor should have known better than to speak of Artemis or her recovery with anyone but Mycroft himself but in that moment he didn't care, she'd told Greg not some terrorist and he was too focused on the words 'not to speak'.

Doctor Sammel nodded looking almost comically short stood opposite Mycroft. "Yes. I was telling the Detective Inspector that while there is no damage to her larynx or vocal folds I would like for her to stay quiet and avoid placing strain on the inner workings of her neck." Explained the doctor. "She can speak but she really shouldn't until we've run a few more tests. She should be coming around pretty soon and I thought you would like to be here when she did, Mister Holmes."

The British Government nodded. "Yes, thank you for notifying me."

Gently the doctor pushed the door open leaving Myc and Greg to follow her inside, there they could see Artemis moving ever so slightly where she'd clearly started to wake up already. Mycroft couldn't put into words just how relieved he was to see her there, eyes fluttering and knowing she'd live.

"Do you want me to go?" Blue-gray eyes flashed over to the cop. "I had just come to check on her but I can leave you alone if you want."

"No, it is all right." Said Myc softly. "You are the only person other than myself who has befriend her."

He went to approached the bed but found himself tugged back suddenly by the elbow and when he turned to Lestrade he found the man wearing a rather perplexed expression of puzzlement.

"She thinks of us as friends?" Asked the shorter man.

Myc hardly spared a nod. "Well you did give her your number and take genuine interest in Artemis and her well-being, you have been concerned for her even when you did not need to be. Yes, Gregory, she believes you to be friends. Do you not?"

"No, no, it's not that, I wanna be her friend, I just didn't think she'd have picked up on it is all."

In all honesty that was a fair assessment, Artemis could be rather oblivious to social cues at times; not that it was really her fault.

"You're the one who keeps reminding me not to underestimate her, Gregory." Mycroft's voice was softer than usual.

Lestrade nodded and finally released his friend's elbow so the taller man could go to Artemis. Mycroft stood on Artemis' left while Lestrade placed himself just behind the doctor on the bed's right. When Doctor Sammel went to lean over Artemis in an attempt to check her pupil response Mycroft's hand shot out to grab her wrist before she could touch his beloved; Doctor Sammel nearly jumped out of her skin and quite frankly Greg hadn't known Myc could move that fast.

"I wouldn't recommend touching Artemis until she has woken properly. Just in case."

"Just in case of what?" Asked the doctor as Myc released her wrist.

Greg shrugged. "She rips your arm off and beats you to death with it."

The British Government rolled his eyes as the short doctor peered over her shoulder at Lestrade like she expected it to all be some big joke, but when neither man displayed anything but very serious expressions she remembered the injuries Artemis had come in with and the armed guards outside her room. Doctor Sammel's face paled as horror stuck her; who the hell was this woman?!

Artemis' dazzling green eyes finally opened up properly and she instantly locked on to Mycroft who surprised even himself by showing her a loving smile.

"Hello, Artemis." He greeted softly.

The raven-haired beauty opened her mouth to speak only to snap it closed again when Mycroft held up a hand to silence her.

"The doctor has some questions and I'd like you to answer non verbally please." He explained. "They wish for you to remain quiet to help aid healing."

Those polished emeralds turned to her doctor then and after a cautious glance to Mister Holmes for permission she took the hint and checked Artemis' pupil response, though rather cautiously.

"I want you to answer my questions with either a thumbs up or a thumbs down, okay?"

Artemis stuck the thumb of her right hand up somewhat half-heartedly.

"Good." Doctor Sammel smiled. "That's good. Is your vision blurry?" Thumb down. "Excellent. True or false, it's 2020." Thumb up. "You're name is Artemis." Another thumb up. Doctor Sammel gestured to Mycroft. "The man beside you is Mister Holmes." Artemis' thumb pointed upwards once more. The doctor nodded softly. "Good, that's fantastic. Right, with a show of fingers how much pain are you in?"

Artemis hardly missed a beat, she lifted her right hand and made a zero which just got a deeply furrowed brow from the short woman.

"You're morphine dosage is quite low at the moment -"

Mycroft could see where this was going, it had happened when she'd been patched up in Lesotho as well, if he didn't step in she'd just get stared at and given pain meds regardless.

"Doctor Sammel," began Mycroft calmly, "Artemis cannot feel pain. She won't require any more painkillers of any kind."

The short doctor seemed to grow more confused by the second. "The medical information the government provided us didn't make any mention of Congenital Analgesia or Hypoalgesia, and she clearly doesn't have Familial Dysautonomia."

"No, she has none of them. Her body is capably of registering the stimuli however, it is ignored upon reaching the brain."

She breathed out a small laugh. "That isn't possible."

"It is with the right conditioning. So, as I said, Artemis will no longer require pain management. Did you have any other questions?"

Lestrade watched with a smirk because only Mycroft Holmes could walk into a hospital and know more about a patient's medical health than their own doctor did.

"Not right now but I will be ordering some more tests." Answered the short woman. "I'll, em, I'll leave you alone a while just remember -"

"Not to let her speak, yes, I remember."

The doctor left then though Greg assumed it was more a kind of running away, he didn't blame her. Once the door was closed he shuffled closer to the bed and glanced at Artemis who lay on her back between the two friends. She kept her eyes firmly locked on Mycroft and he couldn't help wondering if this was as close to displaying loving glances as she could get. The policeman's brow furrowed when she started to tap the fore and middle fingers of her right hand against her clavicle.

"That Morse code?" He asked assuming she was being clever again.

The auburn-haired Holmes shook his head though didn't take his eyes from her taps.

"No, it's Chinese telegraph code. With each new code burst she can pass more information with fewer dots and dashes. Ingenious."

She got a few more taps out before a look of mild annoyance crossed his features. "Artemis, please use Mandarin, my Cantonese is rusty at best."

The hospitalized assassin hardly paused – at least from Lestrade's perspective – but whatever she'd done Mycroft seemed to understand whatever the hell she was telling him much better because his face relaxed and he started to nod.

"Yes, all the Hades generals were accounted for, tagged and sent to the morgue. Hades is now the proverbial headless chicken. I have already made progress on tracing them back to certain countries where I expect there is likelihood of an installation." Myc's voice remained smooth and calm as he passed so much information across. "So far I have traced several back to Mongolia and Lithuania, it is possible these will lead to continental headquarters for Asia and Europe. Have you ever been to sites in either country?"

A couple of quick taps came which hardly made any real noise against her body.

"Is that a yeah or a no?" Inquired Greg since he honestly didn't know if she'd said, yes, no or ordered a pizza.

Mycroft sighed. "A no unfortunately."

Artemis went back to the rhythmic taps while Mycroft watched on. Lestrade ran a large hand through his hair while his friend and the assassin spoke, he knew he probably shouldn't have heard half of what they were discussing. Mycroft was usually so very careful about what he said in front of people, or was this the prime indication that he trusted Greg? The DI never got any further with that thought though because suddenly his phone started to scream out for his attention, quickly he tugged it out of his pocket and listened as Sally filled him in.

"Sorry," began Greg after he'd hung up, "body in Covent Garden. Get well soon, Artemis."

As he walked away Lestrade wondered if that last comment had sounded stupid but his only other option had been 'feel better' which would just have been dumb, besides, Artemis had to know what he meant.

While Greg went to solve a case that hopefully wouldn't need to involve Sherlock, Artemis remained in her hospital bed while Mycroft easily explained everything that had happened since she'd gone into surgery; which was rather a lot. She asked to leave, just as she had after Lesotho, but Mycroft wouldn't allow it. After her fight with Kerberos she'd just had a deep wound to her gut which hadn't actually hit anything vital, this was so much worse.

"You're staying here until the doctors say you're well enough to leave, Artemis. Just because you are not in pain doesn't mean you're not very badly wounded." He sighed. "You need to get better."

Reluctantly the silent assassin relented, if this was what Mycroft wanted from her then she'd do it, no matter how much she believed she'd be better use at his side; Artemis was still his bodyguard after all.

Winning got a little smile from the tall man and he bent down to kiss her softly. She'd been cold after her surgery when he'd kissed her due to the blood loss but now she was warm and inviting again. Perfect.

"I love you, Little Assassin." He told her in a soft whisper, wasn't as if the room had been bugged but still he spoke so only Artemis would hear him; those words were just for her.

~X~

Mycroft Holmes was far from dimwitted, he'd known leaving a woman like Artemis alone in a hospital room for weeks while she properly recovered would have been mind numbing to himself, but to Artemis it was essentially like leaving her on standby. All those sniper techniques Hades had taught her allowed the raven-haired bodyguard to basically remain alert while shutting herself down, useful if one was waiting for a target to pop their head up but not so much for a young woman who was attempting to build herself a personality. That was how Holmes the elder had ended up having Anthea to put together all the correspondence they'd managed to intercept from Hades since the generals had been eliminated so she could decode it for them, Artemis was dramatically faster than himself. Giving her that task had made him feel less like he'd packed her away in her box until she became useful again.

Leaving her in the hospital had led to Mycroft second discovery about Artemis' absence. Moving around London without her at his side had become entirely foreign to him. Mycroft wouldn't admit it – he hardly even wanted to admit it to himself – but he found comfort having her always right there listening to his smug comments and joining in without even knowing that was what she'd done. The suit clad man adored her. Still, he had things to do and Artemis needed to heal.

Artemis had been awake at the hospital for almost two weeks when a small task sent Myc to Baker Street. He sat comfortably in John's armchair while the doctor was upstairs with little Rosie, his brother's icy orbs watched him with something akin to indignation. The elder brother ignored it for the most part and checked the time on his pocket watch, he couldn't help but pause to think of his darling girl when he saw his engraved name with the dreaded R initial.

"Sherlock, I understand you are still throwing a tantrum over what happened at my office but you weren't supposed to be there in the first place and, well, you are going to start acting like an adult sometime before Rosamund graduates." He spoke with a sigh as he tucked his watch away.

Sherlock flashed him that 'I hate you' smile he saved just for his brother. "Plenty of time for childishness yet then, she's not even two."

Mycroft had expected the snark in his little brother's tone and by this point of his life it just rolled off of his back without any effect. The faint sound of Missus Hudson opening the front door could be heard but neither Holmes paid any attention.

"You've gone nine days without a case and Doctor Hooper won't acquire you any more thumbs for your experiments so stop pretending you don't want the case."

Sherlock just continued to glare at his brother. "I don't work for you!"

Some days Mycroft missed being an only child.

Gregory appeared then looking far more casual than he usually did in just a green t-shirt, jeans and leather jacket; the expression however, was his usual disgruntled one. He held his phone in his hand and sighed deeply the second he spotted the two Holmes brothers.

"All right, what's so bloody urgent this time? I warn you, Sherlock – hi Myc – if I just came across town because you wanna use my phone to text, I'll kill you." There wasn't any real bite to Greg's words, he'd long ago lost the energy for it.

The curly-haired man with all seriousness. "No, I want you to arrest him. He threatened me." He thrust a finger out at Mycroft.

"How?" The auburn-haired cocked an eyebrow.

Sherlock shrugged. "You're face, it's doing that angry, threatening thing again, the one where your veins bubble and then you have to go eat a cake to calm down."

"It's just my face!"

Lestrade let his head fall backwards for a second, he wasn't in the mood to play parent to two full-grown men. "For God's sake, Sherlock. I don't get many days off and this one was important! It's Vi-"

The detective inspector found himself suddenly cut off by a young girl charging up the stairs having abandoned Missus Hudson. She pushed her way past her father and lit up the second she spotted Mycroft. Violet Lestrade was eight and by far looked more like her father than her mother – thankfully, some would say – with dark eyes and thick brown hair exactly like Greg's had been when he was young. Those eyes though, they twinkled seeing the elder Holmes and for a second Sherlock honestly suspected she'd explode.

"Uncle Mycie!" Violet beamed.

The little girl quickly threw herself at Myc and practically forced her way into his personal space so she could sit in his lap. Sherlock had expected his brother to quickly recoil but it never came, very unlike his brother – he'd also squirrel 'Mycie' away for later – actually Mycroft looked perfectly content to sit with the child and happy to see her. Carefully the suit clad man supported little Violet with one arm while she stared up at him with one of those impossibly wide grins only children were capable of.

"Hello, Violet. Happy birthday, _ma petite." He greeted with a subtle smile. _

"_French, Mycroft, really?" Grumbled the consulting detective. _

_"__Her _lineage_is French," responded Mycroft easily,__ "__she should speak the language rather than butchering it as Gregory does." _

_"_ _Hey!" Exclaimed the DI without any real outrage. "I'm not that bad." _

_Neither Holmes paid him any mind, just kept their attention firmly on the eight year old as she cuddled as deeply into Mycroft's chest as she could. _

_"_ _Can I have another puzzle, Uncle Mycie?" _

Greg couldn't help but smile at his best friend and daughter. It was such a shame he and Myc hadn't been closer when Violet had been born, he'd have made such a fantastic godfather. Then again, Greg guessed that didn't really matter, Violet still called him uncle and if he really wanted Mister British Government would have only needed to make a quick phone call to have paperwork altered.

_Mycroft nodded. "Very well." He hardly needed a moment to think. "There is a river too wide and deep to walk from one side to the other and so a boat is needed. A farmer needs to get to the other side with a recently purchased fox, duck and bag of grain. However, the boat is small and can only carry the farmer and one of the three at a time. Now, he can't leave the duck alone with the grain because the duck will eat it, and he can't leave the fox_ _alone with the duck_ _for the same reason. So, how does he get all of them to the other side without any losses?" _

It was adorable to watch little Violet start to ponder the puzzle. Greg wondered if his friend would ever run out of puzzles for his daughter, probably not. Sherlock was the only one who didn't seem all that impressed.

_"__Bit simple don't you think, __brother_ _dear__?" _

_Myc hardly spared his sibling a glance. _ _"_ _She's eight, Sherlock, and not like us." _

That sparked Sherlock to grumble again as he grabbed the bow to his violin and started to fiddle with it as if the others weren't there; rude but everyone was used to it.

Lestrade stepped closer to John's chair and perched on the arm so he could smile down at his little girl, he loved seeing Violet so happy. She'd been upset when he'd told her that Mycroft wouldn't be going to her birthday party later because he was so busy with work, but this was sure to pacify her. After this display Greg truly wouldn't ever let Myc claim he'd be a bad father again.

"Can he take them back over the river?" Asked the little girl who gave an easy nod from Mycroft.

While he was fully aware Violet would never possess a brain like his own or Sherlock's he still knew that Violet would grow up quick and sharp nevertheless.

"Come on, Vi, we've gotta go pick up your birthday cake. "

He reached out a hand towards his daughter only for her to look up at him with that face she always gave him when she didn't want to leave Myc. Sometimes Greg was half jealous of the way Violet had attached herself to his friend.

"But-" Began the eight year old but Mycroft cut her off.

"Go on, ma _petite, best enjoy your birthday." He encouraged softly. _

_"_ _You still not going to be there?" She asked with the biggest pleading eyes Mycroft had ever seen. _

_Suddenly Sherlock snorted loudly and all eyes turned to him. _

_"_ _Oh, yes, Mycroft, do go to the princess party, you can be the queen. Go on, say 'we are not amused'. Say it._ _" _

How Mycroft had resisted the urge to murder his little brother Greg would never know but he was damn sure the man deserved a medal for it. Myc just raised an impassive eyebrow then returned his attention to the little girl in his lap.

_"_No, I have work to attend to." He stated calmly.

Violet practically deflated and for the life of him Holmes the elder couldn't figure out how this child had managed to become so attached to him. After a moment she finally hopped down from his knee and went to take her father's hand but paused and turned back when Myc spoke.

"Oh yes, I had intended to drop this off with your father at some point."

He reached into the inner pocket of his pinstriped suit jacket and handed over a red envelope with her name written neatly on the front.

"Ooh a card. Lestrade, your daughter should take this as quite the honor, we don't both with this stuff." Said Sherlock with fake enthusiasm and jovial smile.

"Not a card. Surely you can tell by the thickness of the envelope, brother mine. So slow."

The eight year old took the envelope with a quite 'thank you, Uncle Mycie' and started to rip it open with her tiny fingers. Lestrade just watched on from the arm of the chair beside his friend, he loved the way Violet had perked up.

"Happy birthday, Violet."

She finally managed to get the red envelope open and there was certainly no card within, instead she took out two blue and white tickets.

"Frozen!" She practically screamed. "Thank you, Uncle Mycie!"

Just like that the girl was back in his arms hugging him tight. While Mycroft really wasn't used to this kind of affection he didn't shove her away though did look significantly more awkward than the last time. Greg carefully pulled the tickets from Violet's tiny hand and froze.

Meanwhile Sherlock set down his bow and shot to his feet because he was fairly certain he'd entered some kind of mirror universe without noticing. He was halfway to the stairs before anyone even knew it.

"Oh just get married already." He spat as he surged up the stairs to check on John and Rosie.

As expected Lestrade completely ignored the comment and just carried on with his staring, Mycroft though, he needed an answer.

"Are you taking the case?!" He called loud enough for Sherlock to hear him from the top of the stairs.

"Fine! Anything to get you to leave!" Came the irritated, somewhat exasperated, response.

Without a word Mycroft turned himself straight back to Lestrade and his young daughter. He couldn't deny that his friend had been right, Mycroft did like kids.

"Myc, this has been sold out at the very start of the year. How did you-"

The suit clad man smirked to himself. "Surely you haven't started to doubt my abilities, Gregory. I may loath musical theatre and acquiring the tickets may have proved to be more difficult than navigating that UN conference when Putin and Poroshenko started glaring at one another, but I succeeded nevertheless."

Greg wanted to be stubborn, wanted to be irritated that Mycroft had gone to such lengths and probably spent rather a lot of money, but he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face because who else would have gone to such lengths for his daughter?

"That's not true, you do like one musical."

"No I don't." Mycroft responded a little too quickly; that just made Greg grin wider.

"Yes you do. You let Violet watch _The Nightmare Before Christmas _when we stayed at yours 'cause of that broken pipe, remember? I heard you humming the songs after."

The auburn-haired man did his best to push the subject but what sort of friend would Lestrade be if he didn't tease his best friend?

"It wormed its way into my head, does not mean I enjoyed it." The taller man insisted.

"What, two months later?"

The silver-haired detective finally stood and pulled Violet into his arms after he'd tucked the tickets into his pocket, she didn't argue with him this time.

"You _loved_ it. Say bye to your uncle, Vi."

Violet waved happily at the seated man, a big smile on her face. "Bye, Uncle Mycie. Thank you for Frozen."

Mycroft breathed out a laugh, small and hardly there. She continued to wave at him over her father's shoulder as Lestrade carried her out intent on going to pick up her birthday cake. Alone, Mycroft remained seated in John's armchair. Had someone come to him ten years ago and said that Mycroft would gain a best friend, a little girl who had named herself his niece and the love of a woman who'd been forced to forget how to feel love, he'd have assumed it was some cruel joke but no. Sherlock had said Mycroft was lonely; not any longer he wasn't.

… and he'd _not _enjoyed a musical dammit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I admit it, this whole chapter was just me wanting to write fluff. :-)


	26. Step By Step

When Mycroft entered Artemis' private room he paused upon seeing her bed a mess but empty, a quick glance to the far side of the room revealed her stood by one of the larger windows just staring down at the street below. To anyone else she'd just be looking, taking an interest, but Mycroft knew her better than anyone else, he knew she'd be mentally shooting the public from different rooftops she could see. It wasn't a spiteful or hatred fuelled thing, just something she did to stay sharp. In all honesty the auburn-haired man was focused on how nice it was to see her up and out of bed though he wasn't entirely sure if she was meant to me; he didn't pay it too much mind.

He stepped further into the room and set his briefcase down then he tried to speak but Artemis got their first and cut him off before he'd even started; she didn't look away from the window.

"I finished the Hades correspondence for you." She gestured loosely to the stack of files waiting for him by her bed.

The tall man nodded despite knowing Artemis wouldn't see it and carefully slipped the documents into his briefcase, he'd known she'd have finished, ever his diligent girl. That wasn't what had his attention though, no, her voice was what surprised him, it sounded somewhat softer since they had let her start talking again but Mycroft suspected that was down to lack of use more than anything else.

Before he knew he'd moved Mycroft was stood behind the younger woman, his long arms snared around her waist as he held her from behind so he could kiss her cheek. The thick bandages had clearly just been changed and instead of the scarf-like mass of bandages she'd now got a simple, square dressing over her wound. Normally Mycroft would not allow himself such a display of affection in a public place but they were alone and he _really _wanted to touch her.

"Thank you for your hard work, my love."

He tightened his arms just a little bit for his own satisfaction. All around them stank of cleaning supplies and what could only be described as 'that hospital smell' but when he brushed his cheek against her hair he could scent her shampoo, a soothing fragrance.

"When can I leave?" She asked then completely out of the blue but Myc didn't let go.

While he would have liked for her to return to standing tall at his side Mycroft needed Artemis to heal first, he couldn't bear any more harm coming to her.

"I shall speak with your doctor and see what she says." He responded. "You need to be well before you leave."

Artemis leaned backwards against his lean but strong chest which Mycroft took to be her agreement. _God, why is she always so supple and perfect? _

"I need to return to work, British." She began, eyes still firmly locked on the outside world. "Now Hades has essential been defeated it means that only the most desperate assassins or those wanting to make a name for themselves will accept the contract to eliminate you and Lady Smallwood. They'll not be as heavily trained but they'll be desperate and that is far more dangerous for you if I am not there."

He pressed a small kiss to her temple, an indulgence on his part.

"Worry not, Artemis, I have already ensured that Lady Smallwood's securely has been increased and I will be perfectly fine. I always am."

"I need to be released, Mycroft."

The suit clad man rolled his eyes, unlike him but he felt like the occasion called for it.

"As I said, I will speak with your doctor."

Artemis was far from stupid, she knew he'd not let her just wander on out and return to work. Mycroft had the upper hand, while she was perfectly capable of beating him to a pulp and dragging him back to work he knew she'd never do that. However, Mycroft could and would have her strapped down to her hospital bed if it meant her body got time to recover fully. Honestly it was easier just to go along with what he wanted.

After another temple kiss the British Government released her and went to sit in the chair which faced her bed. He sat with his legs slightly apart and let his head fall back a little.

"I have been invited to Sir Arthur Roxbridge's mid-year gala again." He sighed. "I hate those even more than Alan Johnson's, I mean there is only so long one can smile at a Home Secretary and listen to them talking about tennis. Roxbridge is worse, constantly walking around as if he's going to be the next king."

Mycroft was fully aware he was changing the subject but he needed to stop thinking about people trying to kill him every five minutes. He'd come to check on Artemis and have a break from his work just for a few moments. So yes, he had changed the subject and wouldn't let anyone change it back. Artemis appeared in the very corner of his vision hen and he looked up as she silently moved to stand in front of him. Before a word could be uttered she'd slipped into his lap easily, knees on either side of this thighs as she pulled him to her by his tie for a deep kiss.

"That's not exactly saying much, British, you hate all parties."

Mycroft hummed knowing she was right, he'd never been a party person, of course he went to the things but he'd have rather been at home with one of his old movies or a book and a glass of scotch.

Lightly he rested his large hands on Artemis' hips. God he loved touching her, didn't even need to be about sex he just liked touching her.

"Lady Smallwood will be there as well." He said with a somewhat concerned tone.

"So?" Questioned the younger woman, her breath ghosted his lips before she stole another kiss. "You see her almost every day."

"Indeed, however, she has moved from being angry with me to-" His face contorted as if he'd just sucked on a lemon. "- I think it's flirting and I cannot understand why."

Artemis just shrugged. Most women probably would have wondered why the hell this irritating older woman seemed so interested in their boyfriends but Artemis wasn't like that so a shrug was the most Mycroft got.

"Well, you were rather heroic while we were killing Hades generals." _You did most of that, _muttered Mycroft's mind. "Her shock has worn off and she's realized you genuinely don't care about what she had to glare and yell at you so attraction seems the next logical conclusion."

The blue-gray eyed man raised a questioning eyebrow almost to a sharp point.

"That's a lot of emotional understanding." He teased with a micro-smile.

"Not really. I just understand you and how sex works."

Mycroft didn't think too much into that as he always did when questions as to why she was so good at certain sexual acts popped up; he didn't want to know. Determined to have just five minutes where he had to think about every single word he said before a single syllable left his mouth, Mycroft leaned back and brought Artemis to rest against his chest. In truth the eldest Holmes brother hadn't ever been very tactile, hated his mother's insistence on snuggling him into her chest almost snapping his spine in the process. Although, when it came to Artemis he found that he'd do anything to sit with her in his arms just an extra minute; for another kiss.

~X~

The day finally came when Artemis was to be released form the hospital but before Mycroft went to collect her he needed to make a stop off at Scotland Yard to see a certain DI. The ginger stepped off the elevator once inside the building and headed straight for Lestrade's office without paying a single shred of attention to anyone. Sally Donovan stared at him from her desk – glared would have been a better word – clearly the woman wasn't happy about his presence or his existence in general for that matter. Sally honestly couldn't understand why Lestrade was friends with the elder freak. Still, she went ignored by Mycroft who walked passed her at a quick but not urgent pace, he knocked on the DI's office door then entered when a muffled 'come in' sounded.

The British Government stepped inside to find Greg at his desk with his feet up as he ate a sandwich; chicken salad by the looks of it.

He flashed his friend a smile. "Hey, Myc. What you doing here?" He set his half eaten sandwich down on a napkin. "Come to kidnap me?"

Mycroft couldn't help but smirk at the teasing chuckle of his friend. He closed the door behind himself then held out a file for Greg to take. Took a second and a raised eyebrow but the policeman finally took the file.

"Regrettably I am not being mysterious and incognito today."

That got an even bigger chuckle out of Greg as his feet hit the floor and he started to thumb through the file.

"You usually just have Anthea drop off any case you're giving me, or you don't even give me a heads up and let the Superintendent shove me on whatever it is." Said Lestrade without looking up.

Myc took a seat in one of Gregory's guest chairs and nodded slightly.

"While that is true, I thought I'd give you this one in person."

Greg finally turned his dark eyes up to his best friend. "This looks pretty open and shut domestic homicide but _you're_ giving it to me so it can't be."

"Indeed it isn't. However, Sherlock is still being childish after what happened and it's irritating me." Mycroft informed as though it were simple.

Greg cocked an eyebrow. "I fail to see where I come in."

"That case-" he gestured to the file his friend held, "-hit the media this morning and the news report's pictures of the homes' exterior actually suggests that Harrison Davis-Moore is telling the truth about not murdering his husband. Once inside it's even easier to figure out." Mycroft explained while the cop continued to just stare at him. "My brother is bored, Gregory and - as Doctor Watson likes to say – is a drama queen. He'll have the perfect chance to show off explaining this one and will want the case. Instead I've made arrangements with one of Detective Inspector Dimmock's boring cases.

Greg's brow furrowed. "So I'm being used to slightly irritate your brother by not letting him have access to the case?"

Mycroft smirked a little. "No, no, you're being used to _greatly_ irritate my brother, annoy him even, because you're going to solve it without his help which is, at the end of the day, far more effective than just refusing him access."

"You two and your brotherly feuds." Sighed Lestrade. "And you mean _you're_ going to tell me and I'll take the credit for it all. At least John won't write about it his in his blog and make me look greedy again."

The suit clad man – a pinstripe – once again shook his head. "Oh no, you're going to solve it right here and now with just that file and a me giving you a starting point."

Greg paused as he took in what his friend had said, then shrugged and flicked the file open again so he could lay the photographs out on his desk like some kind of murderous collage.

"Okay, I've not got anything better to do at this exact moment and I'm always down for irritating Sherlock if you are." He paused a moment to peer up at the taller man. "Hang on, won't he suspect you told me the answer? We are best friends and I've got the intelligence of pond scum apparently."

Mycroft just shrugged clearly unconcerned in the slightest. "He hasn't any of the other times I've done this with other detectives."

A twinkle slipped into Greg's dark eyes. "You been cheating on me with other coppers, Myc?"

The British Government leaned forwards conspiratorially as his smirk grew smug. Mycroft Holmes never relaxed this much around anyone except for Lestrade himself, only he knew just how underhandedly amusing he could be.

"You are the only detective inspector for me, Gregory."

Another chuckle. "Alright, Mister British Government, what's my starting point or whatever."

"I told you, the house invites the first questions. What do you see in the windows?"

Lestrade looked everything over with a calculating eye, he was good at his job, he could do this. Mycroft just sat quietly and waited for the policeman to make his assessments and deductions.

"Right, okay, em. Yeah, the window is broken clearly from the outside and seems to be the only sign of forced entry. That doesn't mean that wasn't Davis-Moore himself – wait, why would someone break the window not twenty feet from their neighbor's house where the can be seen from the street when there's a isolated window on the other side?"

Myc nodded. "What does that suggest?"

Lestrade took a breath. "Well, it's a bit odd for an intruder – even odder if Davis-Moore is lying. Why would he risk being spotted by his neighbor or someone on the street when that other window is right there and easy to get through?"

Mycroft smiled ever so slightly. "Good, Gregory, keep going. What does that window being broken indicate?"

Lestrade felt like they were playing some game which didn't quite sit right with him but he really did want to see Sherlock's irritated grumbling.

"That someone wasn't very familiar with the house, or at least only familiar with a bit of it." Brown orbs shone up at his friend. "This guy didn't kill his husband, did he?"

"No. Read his statement."

Lestrade did just that knowing that if Myc believed he could figure this out then he could damn well figure it out.

"Mister Davis-Moore says he heard a smash while he was in the kitchen making breakfast in bed as a treat for his husband." Mycfroft explained. "When he got upstairs there was a man over his husband stabbing him, although he says he couldn't see the man's face, just knew he was tall and Caucasian."

Gregory didn't look impressed. "Surely he'd have seen who this dude was, he couldn't have been more than five feet from him."

The British Government just pointed to the mass of images. "Look at the pictures, Gregory."

He did just that, stared at them for quite some time like he'd gone in search of Waldo. Seconds turned into minutes then one to two to three. Eventually the elder man fell back in his chair with an exasperated sigh of defeat.

"I don't know what I'm looking for, Myc, pictures are full of glare anyway."

To anybody else looking at Mycroft Holmes he wouldn't have appeared to have moved at all, not one inch, but Greg knew his best friend and spotted the tiny twitch of a single eyebrow. Realization dawned on him with that one micro movement and he leaned forwards as his face started to light up once more.

"That's it, isn't it? Something to do with the light. Right, what the hell does the light mean?" The last bit was posed more to himself than the taller man.

"What happens when you walk into a very sunny room from a more shaded one?" Asked Mycroft.

"You can't see properly until your eyes have adjusted."

Myc nodded. "And if the attacker was stood by the window as the picture shows he'd need to in order to stab Thomas Davis-Moore."

"Harrison wouldn't be able to see detail, skin color and clothes but not his face, not properly. Then when the intruder ran he'd only see the back off him. Shit, he actually didn't kill his husband." Lestrade raked a hand down his face. "Still doesn't answer who did kill him."

Mycroft settled himself backwards knowing his friend was almost their, so close to the truth.

"Who would be familiar with just one side of a house? Who would know enough to know what time people got up and started their days but wouldn't have noticed a small, more isolated window? Who could walk around a neighborhood and not be registered as strange?"

Lestrade thought a moment. "Nobody – wait, a neighbor! They'd know those things."

Myc rewarded him with a small smile. "And who was the Davis-Moore's eastern neighbor?"

Greg made quick work of flicking through to the very back as he searched through the witness statements and finally found the one he'd been looking for. Benjamin Owens, he was tall and Caucasian, he also happened to be the neighbor. Greg's eyebrows shot up as he read the list of crimes.

"Damn, this dude has some anger issues. Multiple arrests for aggravated assault, all around the same few streets of Soho as well. Not lived in his house long, just over six weeks, guess that's long enough to learn a couple's basic routine."

"Focus on the area of his arrests, Gregory, you're so very close." Mycroft encouraged.

"Well, like I said, it's the same few streets. Looks like it's all between Charing Cross Road and Great Windmill Street. Which brackets Old Compton Street! That's like London's LGBT focal point. Myc, are you saying this was a hate crime?"

Watching Lestrade figure things out was actually rather enjoyable to Mycroft, figuring everything out was always so simple to him that having to slow down and go through things step by step could almost be therapeutic.

"Well done, Gregory." Mycroft praised genuinely. "See, I told you you'd do it yourself. Mister Owens has attacked people only during the hours that the business are primarily open and directly after closing time, suggesting he picks someone more or less at random as long as they're going to or leaving an establishment on Old Compton Street. Simply put he is a predator who targets the homosexual. Then he moves into a nice new home only to find his neighbors are a married gay couple. To a normal person this wouldn't have so much as raised an eyebrow, though Mister Owens is not a normal person. He waited long enough to figure out when they'd be home and took it upon himself to rid himself of two people he considered to be abominations."

"Think we need to bring him in, don't you?" Greg closed the file. "Still think that was mostly you being a genius. Had you not looked at this an innocent man would have been convicted of killing his husband." The policeman fell back in his chair to just stare at his friend. "Seriously, you and Sherlock got all that from a photo on the news report?"

Myc shrugged with a single shoulder really rather nonchalantly. "I like to look over the new homicide cases every now and again, it provides a distraction. Also, you did that by yourself. Gregory, I just provided you the information to piece together and a little encouragement in places." He sighed. "I hate the homophobic, people who push their own insecurities and unnecessary loathing onto others for no reason other than their desire to provide a reason for their violence."

"Couldn't agree with you more, mate. Did you- never mind." Greg cut himself off in favor of cleaning the pictures away.

"No, please, ask whatever you wish."

Normally Mycroft would have been pleased to shut down that avenue of conversation but he'd discovered long ago that he didn't mind the awkward, unnerving or just plain personal questions when they came from Lestrade, the man was always respectful and knew when to stop if he needed to; probably why he and Mycroft had been able to become such firm friends.

Greg looked Myc up and down a moment before he relented and asked his question. "Did you get people throwing insults and punches at you when you were younger? You know, since you're bisexual." He paused a second. "You don't have to tell me, forget I asked."

The British Government nodded slightly. "Yes. When I was first realizing things myself there were many threats, with my brain that wasn't exactly new though. I wasn't ever attacked and when I started working for the government I separated my personal and private lives with a steel wall. I don't exactly hide my interest in men but I certainly don't flaunt it either."

"Guess it doesn't matter what with you having Artemis now." He flashed his friend a smile.

"Mmm." Mycroft agreed.

That was Lestrade's indication that Mycroft didn't wish to go any further into the subject and Greg respected that, he polity moved back to the case he'd been given.

"I'll finish my sandwich then Sally and I'll go pick Owens up. You've had a look at him, you think he'll confess?"

The suit clad man didn't need a single second to think about that.

"He's homophobic to the point of carefully planed violence so yes, if you give him a sense that you agree with him he'll tell you with a smile because he wants to boast about doing the world a favor."

"Not a fan but if it get's him to confess I'll do it." He reached for his half eaten sandwich and took a bite. "You going to pick up Artemis later?"

"That is actually my next stop." Responded the taller man.

"Say hi from me."

Mycroft rose to his full height then and straightened his waistcoat before he closed the button to his suit jacket. Lestrade hadn't ever seen his friend looking anything except for exceptionally well put together, even after Eurus when he'd been found locked up in her old cell Mycroft had still looked elegant and well presented. Meanwhile there was Greg in a crappy suit and a tie he was pretty sure had a stain somewhere. The two men really didn't look like they should have associated, from completely different worlds, but hey, neither man had ever been one for social norms.

"I certainly shall." Mycroft agreed as he headed to the door so Greg could finish eating and get back to work. "Go arrest someone, Detective Inspector."

Greg chuckled at his friend's teasing and watched him head for the elevator through the blinds of his office. Mycroft Holmes, strange man but by far the best friend he'd ever had.


	27. Homecuming

After he left Scotland Yard Mycroft had made his way directly to the hospital where he'd expected to walk in and aid Artemis packing up her things, instead when he arrived he ground to a halt just inside the doorway to see Artemis sat Indian style on the bed with her tiny bag already packed on the chair beside her. Her eyes were open but they didn't lock on to anything even remotely. Blue-gray eyes flicked from his beautiful bodyguard to the nurse beside her bed removing the drip from the room.

"Are you here to take her home, sir?" Asked the middle-aged nurse when she turned noticed him.

Mycroft nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Oh thank the Lord." The nurse actually appeared to breathe a sigh of relief which got Myc to cock an eyebrow at her.

Very quickly the nurse backpeddled having realized she'd probably just offended or upset this man in his expensive suit with those armed guards outside. Hospital noises sounded in the background, footfalls of doctors and nurses going back and forth about their day, distant machines beeped.

"Sorry, Sir." Began the nurse. "I don't mean to sound insensitive it's just … she's creepy. She just sits there blankly. She's not had _any_ pain medication since she woke up either."

"Well, you needn't be around her any longer." Mycroft assured without much care, frankly he'd grown tired of people being creeped out by Artemis, she wasn't scary she just wasn't neurotypical.

"Maybe not wise to move her when she's catatonic." The short-haired nurse tried to caution, but Mycroft was rather certain he knew Artemis better than this nurse did even if she was a medical professional.

"Artemis isn't, she's fully aware of every word you, I and any other nurse or doctor has said inside this room."

The nurse breathed out a laugh, small and hardly there. "Sir, she's completely unresponsive."

Clearly the nurse worried about Artemis' mental state but no one knew Artemis like Mycroft did so, as impolite as it probably was, he ignored the nurse and instead just turned his attention back to Artemis fully. She didn't move nor show any signs of paying attention, had he not been able to see her breathing and blinking slowly Mycroft would have thought her dead sitting up. Sometimes he wondered if this was what he looked like when he tuned out and headed inside his mind city, had this face been the one Gregory had talked about seeing?

"Artemis, get your things please we're leaving." He spoke calmly knowing there was no need for shouting.

Not even a second after he'd finished speaking Artemis had started to move, she carefully shuffled off the bed to her feet and picked up her little bag which Mycroft insisted on taking as soon as she'd crossed the room to him. The short nurse's eyes went wide at the ease with which he'd gotten through to her, doctors had been trying to talk to her all day and hadn't gotten anything from her; they'd wanted to order some tests to see if there was anything neurologically wrong with their patient. Mycroft was a busy man and couldn't wait around to explain how Artemis' mind worked to a nurse who quite frankly didn't need to know, so, with a polite smile, he looped his arm with that of his bodyguard and turned to the door.

"Good day, madam." Was all he said before walking out with his raven-haired beauty.

Mycroft had hated her being in that hospital, had wanted her at home with him where he could hold her as they slept, but she was well now and he could have those things back. As expected the two armed men followed along behind as they descended the steps. Towards the bottom of the stairs when the beeps and heavy foot traffic had started to fade away Mycroft leaned in so only she'd be able to hear him speak.

"What were you doing?"

To that nurse Artemis had just been staring off at nothing but Mycroft knew better, knew her brain was as active as his, possibly better controlled as well.

Artemis didn't miss a beat. "Mentally assessing all the assassins and mercenaries I'm aware of who would be willing to accept any contract to kill you. With Hades out it greatly narrows the field, also we can rule out the Americans with any political allegiance."

The suit clad man let out a little hum of understanding. "You've put quite some thought into this."

"It's my job to keep you alive, British."

Artemis had been raised to focus only on her mission, to do her job, and when she'd left Hades that focus had turned to protecting the man she loved. She needed a prime directive in order to function and who was Mycroft to try to take that away from her?

"Touché. Any specific names to watch out for?"

"Jaeger." She answered easily. "Canadian national, and actually pretty reliable as a contract killer. He likes to play Hades, pretend he was once one of us."

Well that was just preposterous, there were no ex-Hades operatives; except for Artemis of course. If one wanted to leave Hades their only way out was death.

"People actually believe that?" He questioned as they reached the bottom of the stairs and started along the long hallway.

"Idiots do." Was her only comment on the matter. "I'd say Ricardo Vazquez is over confident and Kerr O'loughlin is desperate after things went south with the Chantrelle family in Paris two years ago."

"I shall have them tracked down and watched if you think they are the primary threats to my and Lady Smallwood's lives."

It was always better to be safe than sorry and Mycroft wouldn't turn away Artemis' wise counsel, he may have been the brains of the pair but that didn't mean the brawn had nothing more than punches to bring to the table.

"Only Vazquez would risk killing Smallwood first and tipping you off." The armed men continued to follow through the hospital drawing the attention of those they passed. "You're the man who took down Hades now, half the contract killers and mercenary units I can think of wouldn't even dream of coming after you now. Congratulations, British, you terrify people who kill for a living."

"Boon to some extent then." He flashed her a smirk.

The finally reached the main door and exited out onto the street, Myc looked up at the sky to see the clouds thick and threatening England with yet more rain. Of all thinks Holmes the elder hated legwork and snow the most but rain which stuck his hair and clothes to his skin was pretty high up there on the list.

The two armed men left Mycroft and Artemis in favor of retreating to a small black truck which quickly drove away once the two men were inside as if they'd never been there to begin with. Myc steered Artemis to his town car and opened the car door for her like a gentleman before he tossed her bag into the trunk and joined her. As soon as the door closed behind him he wrapped an arm around Artemis' shoulders and held her close so he could press a loving kiss to her temple.

"I missed you, little assassin."

He'd not let anyone else see him so loving and caring, this was his private life so it would stay behind closed doors where it belonged, where it was safe.

"Careful, British, You're becoming very sentimental."

Mycroft smiled softly, this was as close to teasing as Artemis could get; maybe one days she'd get better but if she didn't Myc wouldn't mind.

"Don't tell anyone, I have a reputation to keep." He chuckled.

"Promise, if you get me a new M82."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his lover's simple answer; maybe she was better at teasing that even he'd assumed.

"Blackmailing me now?" Gods, he'd missed her.

"I'm an assassin, British, what about me or my past makes you think I am fair?"

He couldn't help breathing out a laugh. "Absolutely nothing."

"Then I expect my M82 by the end of the week."

He honestly had missed her view of the world, how everything always so simple to her. Dealing with everything after the Hades attack had been the most stressful situation of his life and he'd personally overseen thirteen UN conferences. Still, Artemis was back in his arms and he could hold her tight, all the stress of his life could fade into the background for a short time and he could just be calm and himself.

Mycroft's smirk grew a little, in the back of his mind he'd already figured out he'd be getting her that gun. Artemis' sarcasm and deadpan comments she didn't even realize she'd made had always been refreshing to Mycroft, buying her a – really rather expensive – gun wasn't too much of a consequence.

Her natural warmth drifted through his many layers and into his soul soothing the horrors of the outside world, the softness of her skin comforted him and her hair smelt faintly of shampoo. Strange that an admitted murderer could provide so much solace. So perfect.

As the car started to move he turned his blue-gray orbs to the bandages at Artemis' neck, he hated those bandages almost as much as he hated her numbers. Any deeper and even her conditioning and inability to panic wouldn't have saved her. Mycroft had genuinely meant what he'd told Greg, caring wasn't an advantage but that had never stopped him caring anyway. There really was a heart inside him.

The pair travelled home – because even he wouldn't expect her to just return to work – and discussed any further threats Artemis had managed to come up with of which there were many. One of the wonderful benefits of having a Hades Reaper on side was that she knew of everyone who was good with a gun and she'd had plenty of time to put those people and organizations into order of danger and eliminate the rest.

Soon they made it home and Mycroft held the front door for her like a perfect gentleman as the car drove away only to return when called. Before he could say a word or even close the front door his cell phone started to ring incessantly probably with another nugget of chaos for him to deal with. Artemis didn't say a word just took her bag from him and headed up the stairs slowly to give him some privacy. The auburn-haired man watched her go, such a beautiful body. The ringing continued and jolted him out of his inner thoughts and he excused himself into the sitting room to take the call.

Meanwhile Artemis made her way up the stairs, feet softly padding against the stair runner as she made her way closer and closer to their bedroom. As soon as she stepped into the room Artemis dumped her bag down on the Ottoman at the end of the bed and took a deep breath, the whole room smelt like old wood and Mycroft; in a way it reminded her of long ago at the cabin. However, Artemis smelt like hospital and hadn't had a decent shower since the morning Hades had attacked.

Having hardly paused Artemis simply stripped off her clothes and went straight into the master bathroom to shower properly. Hot water ran down her back stripping away the grime. It was a little difficult to prevent her dressing getting wet but Artemis had gone through tougher trials. No thoughts passed through her mind, she didn't spend time thinking in the shower as Mycroft and so many other people did, no, she just stood there. It wasn't nothingness exactly but Artemis assumed it was as close to true peace as she'd ever get. The heat opened up her pores and soothed muscles she couldn't feel where tense.

Artemis didn't shower to relax, she did it to get clean so soon enough she was out and dried off. She stepped back into the bedroom and pulled open the closet in search of something to throw on when she paused seeing a garment bag which hung open a little, with long fingers she peeked inside; was this the dawn of curiosity? Inside she found a perfectly cleaned and tailored tuxedo complete with bow tie.

Without much warning a creak sounded behind her at the open door but Artemis didn't bother to turn around, she knew those quiet but precise footfalls so very well. Mycroft. Though she couldn't see him Artemis knew he'd leaned against the door frame, she could feel his bright eyes as they raked up and down her naked, supple body.

"That is for Sir Arthur's party." He told her easily.

"Very smart."

"I do my best." He shrugged nonchalantly. "You shall, of course, join me, guests are always entitled to a plus one and a bodyguard if desired, you get to be both."

She nodded though honestly didn't seem to care all that much. "Very well. Though I'm not much of a conversationalist."

That drew a small chuckle from the elder man while his eyes did indeed trail up and down her supple form. Though he hated the scars which decorated her body they didn't for one second make her ugly; to him they were a show of survival. He hated that she'd been forced to go through the pain of having them inflicted but they only left her even more beautiful, powerful and brave. Finally he couldn't resist touching her any longer and left his spot loitering in the doorway made his way straight to his beauty so he could snake his arms around her from behind and press a kiss to her shoulder softly.

"Not to worry. Neither are most of Sir Arthur's guests." Another loving kiss most wouldn't have thought a man like Mycroft Holmes capable of; not that there were any men like Mycroft Holmes. "My beautiful little assassin."

The next thing Myc knew Artemis had hopped into his arms completely naked against his suited chest, her legs wrapped around his waist tightly while his hands supported her firmly. The raven-haired killer ran her hands through his thinning hair as they continued to kiss. Mycroft adored this, when she was loving, when the person on the inside was allowed to come out of its shell.

"You still need to heal, we shouldn't do this, Artemis." He said wanting nothing but to keep her safe and well.

"It's only my neck that's damaged, British, so as long as you can survive without my mouth around you for a while I think we'll be okay."

Mycroft felt himself twitch with want for her. He'd never been a man who went around craving sex, certainly he'd always had wants but had only ever _craved _Artemis, only ever woken up sticky after dreams of her.

"You were the one who made me want things and right now I want you." She told him after yet another kiss.

"Well, what sort of man would refuse a beauty such as yourself?"

Artemis leaned back so she could look him in the eyes, while Mycroft thought all of her beautiful those emerald eyes truly where the pinnacle of this femme fatale.

"A stupid one," the naked woman began in that lyrical voice of hers, "and you're far from stupid."

Smiling he pressed her against the wall beside the closet door, her hair was still damp and wetted his hand when he slipped his large hand upwards to scrap his nails along her scalp. Mycroft's lips met her skin at the junction of her neck and shoulder, her perfect supple skin. He could have had her there, right there against the wall but then his cheek caught the edge of the bandage and Mycroft forced himself to reel his wants and desires back in, he couldn't risk hurting Artemis even if she'd not feel it.

Carefully, and with more strength than most probably gave the elder Holmes credit for, Mycroft carried his beautiful bodyguard across the room and set her down gently on the soft mattress. A little voice in the back of his mind had urged him to toss her down, pull her hair back and give in to his primal side but Mycroft Holmes was nothing if not self-restrained.

Mycroft adored this, when they were together was the only time Artemis _felt_, experienced the emotions owed to her as a living, breathing person. These moments were when Hades stopped existing and her humanity was returned to her.

Quickly Mycroft stripped off his suit jacket, waistcoat and shirt then toed off his shoes and knelt onto the bed. Blue-gray eyes met dazzling green ones as Artemis felt his weight settle atop her; Mycroft could get lost in those emerald orbs, it wouldn't have been hard.

When their lips met in a bruising kiss Artemis suddenly found her wrists pinned down by strong hands; Mycroft's had a grip that lingered on the border of pain and pleasure. This was different. She'd been held down before during sex but it hadn't ever been with the auburn-haired man, even stranger was that Artemis actually found she liked it. His eyes were dark than she'd ever seen before, not just dark, powerful and bold.

His fingers released her to scurried up her firm thighs to part them exposing her to him. That little voice urging his primal side normally went ignored but for some reason Mycroft wanted to give in to it, just a little, just enough to satisfy it without risking Artemis harm.

"Stunning, my little assassin."

Mycroft's eyes caressed her supple body. So beautiful, so perfect, so utterly stunning. Without warning he crashed their mouths together for a painful kiss. Maybe he'd given in to the primal need due to how long he'd been alone in that huge house without her; every inch of him had missed her. He pushed her thighs apart further so he could fill the space between them. Mycroft shoved her wrists into a single one of his large hands while the other found her dripping core with a teasing smile.

Artemis' pretty mouth fell open for a moan that didn't quite want to escape, her head tried to tilt back as well but her arms and the way Mycroft held them prevented it; just because he wanted her in a more cardinal way didn't mean for one second that he'd stopped thinking of her safety.

The half-naked man smirked as he worked her body open to him, took pride in the way her chest rose and fell displaying her large breasts to his hungry eyes. He leaned down to take a nipple into his mouth and finally, _finally_, got a wonderful little mew from his girl; and didn't that bring a smile to his face.

"Mycroft-" Her name hung breathy on her lips.

She truly was the only woman – person even – he'd ever craved. His erection strained inside his perfectly tailored suit pants, the want, the desperation. Gods, he loved this woman more than even he'd though could. Maybe he wasn't as self-restrained as he'd believed because Mycroft quickly released her wrists and pulled his fingers from her wet heat which earned him such a wanton moan from Artemis. With hast he ripped open his belt and shoved his pants off along with his boxers, then, with one sharp, very desperate, thrust buried himself inside her wet heat.

Artemis' back arched almost instantly and her legs wrapped around his skinny hips. When she tried to tug him back down for another bruising kiss she found he pinned her wrists down on either side of her head; she certainly did enjoy this. Artemis had no idea where this unusual dominant streak had come from but she'd certainly found something new to add to her short list of things she genuinely liked. His hands were hot on her skin and powerful, neither were under any misapprehension, both were fully aware that Artemis could have freed herself of his grip with ease had she wanted, but hat was the thing, she didn't want to. Artemis was perfectly happy being held down by this man with his immense brain and loving kisses.

Her wrists stayed pinned by her head as Mycroft thrust deep within his darling Artemis and locked their lips together, he tasted vaguely of tea as always. Outside the wind had started to pick up as the sun began to set, rain would soon be upon them.

"Please. I need it harder." She told him breathlessly as her legs snaked around the older man's hips to keep him close.

"So needy, my little assassin, so perfect." Mycroft' breathed. "You always know when I can't resist you, don't you?"

Mycroft moaned, he'd got a tight grip on her but she was soon released in favor of grabbing her by the hips to speed up the pace of his deep thrusts. Artemis' eyes fluttered and Mycroft took a second to delight in the sight of her. She clawed at his shoulders desperate to keep him close as her pleasure built.

"Needy little girl." His voice was deep and a little breathless. "So perfect."

Had anyone seen Artemis panting and moaning beneath him they'd never have suspected the tortures Artemis had been forced to live through, the killing of her emotions. Why did she sound so delightful? His thrusts grew erratic for a moment but they didn't stop when her nipples pressed firmly against his torso.

He growled with want, a completely subconscious noise. The growl was a deep and guttural one that almost – _almost –_ pushed Artemis over the edge and into the tidal wave that was euphoric bliss; one of the few true emotions she ever got to experience. Artemis cried out with want as fingers once again clawed at Mycroft's shoulders. The young bodyguard's walls quivered down around the British Government's hard length and Mycroft groaned into her shoulder as his grip on her tightened and she tumbled over the edge and came with a breathy cry.

"Mycroft, harder. Now!" She muttered in need for her second climax.

Damn he loved the way she said his name. Sex always brought her latent emotions to the surface like some kind of emotional effervescence.

The British Government chuckled darkly as he looked down at her destroyed and debauched face. So utterly beautiful. Mycroft's thrusts turned erratic once more as his own base needs surged him onward, he clung to her scarred but no less gorgeous body and chased after his own orgasm. So close, so very almost there! Just a little more, just-

"Christ! Artemis!"

Her walls continued to flutter around his length as he came, his forehead rested against her clavicle and he let himself such in needed air. Mycroft's hold on her released and he did his best not to collapse on her so instead sat back on his haunches to gaze at the woman he wasn't sure he deserved.

Those green eyes were half lidded as she watched him, watched his chest rise and fall while his lungs filled with sex scented air.

"Think you deserve a treat, don't you." He asked rhetorically while their eyes remained locked.

She'd wanted her second climax and Mycroft Holmes would damn well give it to her. He loved her, he only wanted her happiness. With that Mycroft pressed a loving kiss to Artemis' temple as his large hands caressed her and then, without so much as a hint, slid down her slender body. He left little kisses and nips up her inner thigh – like porcelain but marred with a mosaic of scars – until he found where Artemis so desperately wanted him.

"Oh British!" She gasped loudly completely uncharacteristically.

He smirked "I love you."

He looked at the delicate raven curls of her glistening sex, _so wet, _his mind muttered dominantly before his let his fingers stroke along her folds. She moaned, loud and a little breathless, if Mycroft never heard another sound ever again he'd die a happy man; the sound was like music. Artemis was beautiful beneath him, hands curled into fists above her head where they'd fallen, lips parted to let little groans and pants escape as his clever fingers explored her wetness. Holmes the elder's talented tongue lapped at her wet folds teasingly at first, tormentingly so, but soon that wasn't good enough for him. He brought her to the brink of pleasure and then pulled his tongue away, her eyes flashed with need; with want. Mycroft wouldn't deprive his darling little assassin though, not when she made such wonderful sounds; not when she'd been deprived of pleasure for so much of her life. With a grin he slid further down the bed to pepper sweet kisses to her supple body; he loved those thighs even with the star-like bullet scars.

"Ah, Mycroft!"

His tongue licked at her folds hungrily tasting the sweet flavor of the young woman. Artemis gasped out a strangled moan; a rare but delightful noise. His tongue lapped at her, he was amazed at how wet she was for him. Her hands finally moved to find purchase in his thinning hair, grip it tightly as his tongue circled her clit; Artemis just wanted to mess it up, Mycroft Holmes was such a well put together man and the thought of dishevelling him was just too good for a reason she couldn't quite understand. He kissed that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over making her mew and gasp and pant for him, all for _him_, then he slipped a finger inside her. Artemis moaned which only spurred him on. A second finger slipped into her wet heat and then another, he crocked them as he kissed her clit. It didn't take long for Artemis to start pushing back on his fingers, she was close and he knew that. After a few moments of careful thrusting she groaned out and wrapped her legs around his head. Mycroft made sure to keep the thrusts going throughout her orgasm until she was left panting, her eyes fluttered closed. Artemis felt nothing but pure pleasure, that was what had been stolen from her and that was exactly what he'd returned to her.

"Mycroft!" She all but screamed and God did that feed Mycroft's ego in a way he'd not known he'd wanted.

He smirked when his lips met hers again, knowing she could taste herself on him. They lay together in the blue sheets a time, there bodies coated in a thin layer of sweat as their lungs sucked in much needed air. Artemis cuddled into the older man's side, something she'd originally started to do because she'd noticed he enjoyed holding her; now though it was for both of them. The tingle of orgasm still radiated through his strong body.


	28. Burning Paper

After a couple of weeks and several check ups Artemis had finally been allowed to remove her bandage and Mycroft had done his very best not to blame himself for the scar; he'd left so many scars on her soft skin. The wound was red and raised, still scabbed in places and probably would be for quite some time. It looked almost like a sideways Y incision with one point of the Y trailing up towards her left ear. According to doctors his bodyguard was healing surprisingly well and quick considering she never ate enough and slept even less than Mycroft himself did. The only theory he'd managed to come up with was that her body was used to healing her body of severe wounds that it had gotten the process down to a fine art, though that almost sounded ludicrous.

Much to Mycroft's pleasure Sherlock had seemingly ended acting like a child towards his brother and, while still not quite back to normal, had stopped going out of his way to anger and irritate the elder Holmes. In all honesty the government official would take whatever he could get.

Then there had been little Violet and her insistence on showing her Uncle Mycie every single picture and piece of merchandise she'd gotten from Frozen, as well as the dress she'd convinced Gregory to buy her specifically for the occasion. Lestrade had brought her over one night when the two friends had made plans to watch one of Mycroft's old movies; essentially the cop had blind sided Myc for his own amusement. However, after that encounter at his home Violet had started to refer to the resident former assassin as 'Aunt Artemis' which had entertained Lestrade wildly, unfortunately, it had just made Myc cringe. He'd started to think about the file with her real identity inside and how he'd essentially pushed it away again, he couldn't do that any longer. He couldn't!

That was how Mycroft had found himself stood in the open doorway to the library late one night watching as Artemis read a book in one of the large armchairs by the fire. He'd shed his suit jacket and tie, loosened his collar and rolled his white sleeves up; always ended up like that after long enough in his home office. He'd just been staring at Artemis' file which he had tucked under his arm. With a quiet sigh he lifted his pocket watch out of his waistcoat with the hand not holding a crystal glass of scotch and clicked it open for a quick glance at the time; eleven-forty-eight. The watch went away and his blue-gray eyes turned back to his beautiful girl by the fire, he'd lit that fire several hours earlier to keep her warm since she'd not have done it herself and Artemis hadn't moved since.

With a breath he stepped into the room and sat down quietly in the armchair beside her own then set the old file down on the small, circular table between them which housed nothing but an antique lamp. Artemis didn't look up but, of course, he'd not really expected her to, she just kept her head in her book.

"What is this?" She asked after a moment.

The auburn-haired man let his eyes rake over her a second then took a calming breath before he answered.

"It is your file, Artemis. You're Hades file."

That finally got her to move her attention from the thick tome to Mycroft with an unreadable expression. He took a large swig of scotch from his glass.

"Who you are is inside there." Mycroft balanced his glass on the arm of his chair then flicked open the file and pushed it along the small table further towards her; Artemis set her book down in her lap. "I found it some time ago but the time to tell you was never quite right. It took a long time but I eventually found your number."

She closed her book properly and let it slip down between her thigh and the confines of her chair as she picked up the file. There she found a single sheet of paper with two photographs, one of a car and one of Artemis as a child.

The text was old and worn, the printed boxes and text practically worn away due to improper storage and age. Some of the words were hardly legible while others were sharp and clear.

Mycroft started to speak but it sounded more as though he were simply musing allowed than explaining. "Born in nineteen-ninety-two, I knew you were young back in that cabin but I never suspected you to be thirteen when he had sex." He chugged down a huge gulp of his scotch and kept his eyes firmly focused on the fire, an orange glow danced across his face. "Or maybe I did and I just pretended you were older. At least we know you're birthday now, you'll be twenty-eight in November. I dug into your history after I possessed a name and Mariska was born in Yekaterinburg, Russia to Anatoly Ivanovich Kovrov and his wife Inna Romanovna Kovrova, and was the youngest of their two children. The elder was a boy named Illya Anatolyevich Kovrov. In late nineteen-ninety-six when you were four years old your family were fired upon and your car was run off the Žvėryno bridge into the river. Everyone inside had been shot except for the driver who drown in the frigid waters. You're father was to be the new Russian Ambassador to Lithuania and it seemed someone didn't like that idea. Little Mariska was never found, it was assumed that the strong current dragged your body out of the broken windows and down river, the river was searched for weeks but Mariska Anatolyevna Kovrova was never located." He took a breath and another sip of scotch which burned the back of his throat wonderfully. "You talked about remembering a car crash, water and a dead boy. I believe you never lost consciousness and were not struck by any bullets. When Hades took the picture to confirm your father's assassination they spotted you and took you to train." He downed what was left of his drink. "You have your name back, your age, even your nationality. More than a number once more."

Artemis sat quietly a moment, her green eyes traced over the file and paused on the photograph of her at the tender age of four, then, like it was little more than a magazine she'd finished with, Artemis tossed it forwards into the fire.

"No."

Mycroft's eyebrows shot upwards as he instinctively leaned forwards to grab the file but it was too late, fire had already engulfed it. He finally set the empty glass down and just stared at Artemis with a level of confusion very unusual for Mycroft Holmes.

"No?" He managed to ask.

She turned to face him properly, face as unreadable as always. "That girl, Mariska Kovrova, she's dead. I don't remember being her or anything about her, she may as well have died in that car with her family, British. She doesn't exist. They killed her along with her brother and parents." Mycroft ran a hand down his face, he didn't understand and that wasn't a feeling he liked. "You allowed me to want things, gave me that ability back.

She stood up then and ignored her book when it fell to the floor with a dull thud. She glanced into the fire a moment to see the burning file as the scent of smoke started to tease the air. When she turned to Mycroft he just continued to watch her. Artemis straddled him then and though still puzzled he made no attempt to push her away, just rested his large hands on her slender hips to steady her. Artemis only wore a powder blue tank top and a pair of black sleep shorts – which Myc adored but said nothing about – and the fire's orange glow caressed all her exposed skin.

"What are you trying to say to me?" He asked far more softly than he'd intended.

"I don't want to be a number, or a Reaper, I don't want to be nothing any longer and please don't make me be a dead little girl." Her voice remained emotionless even if her words weren't. "Can I just carry on being Artemis? Please?"

He stared deeply into those mesmerizing green eyes, the eyes he'd committed to memory before any other part of her. Those eyes which shined and dazzled, the eyes which soothed his very soul. Those eyes with their obvious resplendence. When he looked at them in that moment though Mycroft felt he saw something almost sorrowful inside them, he longed to end it. Maybe there was something that twinged inside her heart, like the small spark that had attached her so deeply to him; had allowed a broken little girl to love him.

With a gentle touch Mycroft lifted his hands up from her hips to cup her cheeks so he could stare even deeper into those polished emeralds. That was exactly what he'd wanted to hear, he didn't know Mariska Kovrova, he didn't love Mariska Kovrova. That was the real reason he'd not wanted to tell her about her file. He'd not wanted to stop having her be his Artemis.

"Of course you can." He promised.

Mycroft crashed their lips together for a deep, loving and long kiss. A kiss filled with devotion and frankly filled with desperation. The suit clad man loved her and frankly be believed that her redamancy was what kept him going at times.

"Of course you can." The auburn-haired man repeated. "It doesn't matter what your parents named you, doesn't matter what numbers Hades tattooed on your skin, you are _my_ Artemis and you always will be."

"Promise?" She asked quietly, almost hopefully as their foreheads rested together.

"I promise."

He pulled her to him so she just sat there with her face pressed into his left shoulder and his arms wrapped around her firmly. Artemis didn't cry but Artemis didn't remember how to cry, that had been almost the first thing Hades had stolen from his sweet girl. The pair just sat there in the cramped armchair before the fire, Myc kept his arms around her so tightly that it had to have hurt. Neither spoke, they just sat there ever so quietly, not a word, not a breath, hardly even a heartbeat. Just sat silently together while the fire crackled and destroyed the last of the file. The smell of burnt paper rose up to mix with the lingering scent of his scotch; together they made a warm almost comforting odor.

Outside the night had firmly taken over, clouds had covered the stars and the wind had started to blow through the trees really rather forcefully; a storm was coming. Mycroft cared not about a storm though, he was much too focused on the sudden and unexpected hygge which had entered his life.

The government official honestly had no idea how long the pair sat together in that one position and truthfully he didn't care to reach for his pocket watch and find out, judging by the way the fire had died down it had to have been hours. Mycroft had work to do, documents and dossiers to go through but they went ignored and instead just remained inside his briefcase back in his home office. Artemis' knees must have gone stiff and seized up but she didn't for one tiny second even hint that she needed nor wanted to move from her position above him. Mycroft wouldn't let go, didn't think he could, his arms stayed tightly around her as the first drops of rain started to fall outside leaving little trickles down the large panes of glass which ended up looking eerily similar to roots of a plant deep within the earth.

Mycroft wouldn't have objected had she wished to assume her birth name and be Mariska Kovrova once again, she had every right to claim her given name but … Mycroft had longed for her to remain his Artemis. Logically he knew little would have changed other than him using Mariska to address her. He'd not wanted to lose the girl who'd come into being back in that cabin though and it had driven him to put off giving her the file no matter how dumb he'd thought the act.

She may have once been that little girl but now she's his Artemis and he prayed to a god he'd never believed in that she always would be. Prayed he never lost her.

"I love you, Artemis."

Damn, he just needed to hear her name. He didn't love Mariska, he didn't love 132601.

"I love you too, British." She responded easily. "I'm sorry you spent so long looking for who I was born as. I should have told you I didn't care." She pressed a soft kiss to his neck were her face was pressed into it. "It does explain why I don't remember learning Russian though." Mycroft breathed out a muted laugh at that, a silly little laugh at something which wasn't even that funny. "Thank you for looking but I think it's best we let that little Russian girl stay dead with her brother and parents. Let her have some peace."

Mycroft nodded in agreement, the horrors that little girl had suffered through at the hands of Hades were almost unfathomable and Mycroft had no intentions of digging Mariska up and stuffing her back inside Artemis.

Finally he realized that if he didn't move Artemis she'd be there until he passed out so, ever so carefully, he lifted her and shuffled the much younger woman to sit in his lap comfortably. Her legs dangled over the side of the arm towards the chair she'd once occupied while her head rested against his shoulders and she held one of his larger hands in her own smaller ones.

"Will you do something for me?" The auburn-haired man asked after a few moments of quietude.

"You know I'll always do anything for you, British."

Oh she would, Mycroft didn't doubt it for a moment, not one.

"Artemis has existed a long time but she's existed for me alone, I want you to exist for you as well. You sound English currently but that is only because you needed to do so for Hades, in the cabin in Finland you sounded perfectly American." He paused to kiss her temple. "I'd like for you to decided what accent you desire, what does _Artemis _sound like? If you wish to remain with an English accent then so be it, I will not object, but you cannot continue to be a series of scraps of a personality. You are Artemis, so who is Artemis?" He peered down at her with those usually icy eyes of his. "You are a woman without a country. Do you understand?"

It took her a few seconds but eventually she nodded.

"I believe I do, yes. You want for me to solidify my existence as a person rather than remaining little more than a badly planned, two dimensional television character. I can do that."

"Good." He meant that, Mycroft honestly meant it. He paused then unsure if he should ask his next question but when he decided there wasn't exactly a bad answer he asked anyway. "Do- do you wish to know the rest of what I discovered about your life pre-Hades?"

"I don't think I want to, but I believe I probably should. Tell me."

"Very well." Another kiss to her temple. "From what I gathered you had a very loving family. Your father was a hard worker, a strong and unwavering man. Your mother was a dancer, ballet, from the footage I found she was really rather talented. You are more than welcome to see it if you wish. Then there was your older brother, Illya. He was three years older than you and possessed quite the analytical mind, a trait I believe both you and he shared with your father. Illya appears to have had a vast interest in history, specifically World War II and the Bolshevik Revolution. For the first part of your life you lived in Berlin as your father had a position at the Russian embassy there, though you were much too young to have picked up the language. When you turned two your father was recalled to Russia where you lived in Moscow and were educated to the full extent a child could be until shortly after you'd turned four and your father became the Russian Ambassador to Lithuania, you know what happened after that." He paused to take a breath. "You do have family remaining, Artemis. Regrettably your father's siblings have both died but your mother had a brother by the name of Georgy Volkov, he still lives in Ufa with his wife, Anuska Volkova. Roman and Vadim are their sons who have families of their own now. You could meet them if you wished."

"They've mourned for their niece and cousin once, let's not make them do it again."

She was right, of course she was right. Artemis wasn't Mariska and this uncle and aunt, these cousins didn't know her. It wouldn't have been a long lost reunion, it would have just been more heartbreak for a family who had lost so much already. The axiom that it was best to let the dead lie was firmly in place.

"As you wish, my love." Mycroft gave her a little, loving squeeze before he tucked two fingers under her chin to tilt her head up to face him and kissed her soft lips. "I think it's time we went to bed."

Without waiting for an answer Mycroft rose to his full height with Artemis bridal style in his arms. For the smallest of moments he though his legs would give out due to the lack of use and blood but he was quite pleased to find he stayed upright with little more than a small wobble. The fire had put itself out quite some time ago and the rain had turned a little violent; rain had pushed all the animals into their burrows for the night and it was high time that the couple did the same.


	29. When The Chameleon Stands Out

The night of Sir Arthur's gala finally arrived and it was a warm one, England had received quite the unusual heatwave during the last few days and though things had started to calm down a breeze would have been most welcome.

Artemis had just stepped out of the shower and finished drying her hair when she padded into the large bedroom naked as the day she'd been born only to walk almost directly into the lean but solid chest of one Mycroft Holmes. She blinked a moment and stepped back to look at him properly with those dazzling eyes of hers. He had his tux on looking as immaculate as ever, hair combed, pocket square neatly folded and bow tie perfectly adjusted. In his right hand he held up a black garment bag which Artemis glanced to before back to the taller man.

"I'm assuming that's not a t-shirt and a pair of jeans."

He flashed her one of those hardly there smirks of his. "You assume correctly, little assassin. Charlotte just dripped this off for you." He held the garment bag out for her to take. "All bodyguards are expected to be in black tie as well."

"So I get a tux?"

"Unfortunately that would only raise eyebrows around these people." He told her softly.

"I have more mobility in pants."

That was true, she always wore pants because of the range of movement. Mycroft hadn't ever minded, they were usually tight and gave a lovely view of her backside; not that he spent a lot of time looking of course.

"Please just put the dress on." He insisted. "Your shoes are in a box on the bed. I shall order a car for us."

She took the dark garment bag – which seemed lighter than she'd expected – and nodded just a little. She didn't exactly have a problem with putting on whatever was in the bag, Artemis just didn't see the necessity. He'd not peered inside the garment bag but didn't have any concerns, Anthea had always had a good eye for fashion so whatever had been chosen for Artemis would no doubt be exquisite.

Without a word she simply turned away and walked back into the bathroom while Mycroft headed downstairs and quickly ordered them a car with little more than the push of a button. Once the car was ordered he made his way into his large sitting room and poured himself a drink, he always needed one before these things.

The goal for the evening was to show his face, be polite as he mingled like he cared what the rest of the one percent did with their boats and then leave as quietly as he could. Speaking with the foreign minister was his primary objective while his secondary would be to either avoid entirely or have very little conversation with Lady Smallwood. She'd continued her strange 'let's go for drinks' which in all honesty had started to disturb him. The night would be a late one but Mycroft was nothing if not used to that at this stage of his life.

For roughly twenty minutes Mycroft nursed his scotch and waited for Artemis knowing the car was sitting outside for them. While he didn't want to go to Roxbridge's gala and he'd not rush Artemis, she did this even more rarely than he did, he couldn't let his driver sit around waiting all night and there was a point when fashionably late became plain old late.

Mycroft knocked back the remnants of well aged scotch then left the sitting room intent on leaving it in the kitchen, however, when he made to pass the staircase he paused upon spotting Artemis as she descended them. The glass slipped from his hand and fell to the floor where it landed with a dull thud before it rolled away a little from his foot; the glass didn't break, it was too good a quality of crystal for that.

Blue-gray eyes raked over her from toe to head as his mouth hung open in a very uncharacteristic way. She wore silver and black peep-toe heels which probably would have left her almost the same height as him but it was the gown that had most of his attention. It was silvery-gray and sparkled beautifully, practically see through, there weren't any sleeves just delicate little straps and a very dramatic, deep V. The dress was full length with a slit all the way up the right side from which he could see those creamy legs of Artemis'. Her long raven hair had been pulled over her left shoulder exposing her neck and the only bit of jewelry she wore, a set of simple but effective earrings which dangled down to her jaw. The eyeliner was sharp but subtle and then there were her lips, a matte, deep maroon color which drew the eye.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs she tilted her head a little, the only indication she was confused.

"Why is your mouth hanging open?"

The tuxedo clad man took a second to blink and flick his brain off and on again, his mouth managed to close and he straightened himself up a little.

"Sorry, it's just you look … _wow_."

"The great pantomath Mycroft Holmes reduced to 'wow'."

He nodded as his eyes insisted upon returning to the dress again. "Well you do look very beautiful."

Polished emeralds glanced down at her long dress and it was only then with her only a foot away from him that Mycroft realized that sure enough she was practically his height in her heels. Artemis ran her hands down the sparkly fabric a second or two before she finally returned her attention to the British Government as if she'd deciphered something.

"I think that was Anthea's intention. She made me watch videos about make-up when you were working in your office."

_Charlotte planned this! _Mycroft's mind screamed at full volume inside his head. Had he not known better Mycroft would have assumed this had been some convoluted attempt to murder him.

"I take it I did all of this properly then." She asked in that lyrical voice of hers.

The taller man nodded, eyes still preoccupied with the way her dress pushed her breasts together seemingly impossibly.

"Very, very properly."

Yeah, his brain wasn't working correctly; it was almost as if it had developed lag. The auburn-haired man was amazed by the way she'd managed to cover over her scars to the point she'd practically neutralized them. The one on her neck was still the most obvious but Artemis had taken much of the redness out of he nasty scar. Mycroft honestly didn't know whether to kiss or kill his personal assistance for this.

Beautiful, that was the only word he had for her. She'd always been stunning but this … Mycroft hadn't ever known how much he'd needed to commit this sight to memory.

"I suppose I would be deemed pretty. I am thin with a large chest that doesn't seem to fake or disproportionate to my body." She said quietly.

Her description sounded so _flat_ like a a description one would give the police, and it finally managed to snap his attention from the dress to Artemis' face as his eyebrow shot upwards towards his thinning hairline. He couldn't let that stand, needed to correct it.

"No, not 'suppose', Artemis." He insisted with a shake of his head. "You honestly have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?"

Mycroft slipped his hands to her slender hips so he could hold her close while looking her firmly in the eyes.

"You are a goddess carved of marble and draped in jewels. Your eyes shine more immensely than all the stars in the heavens. You are far beyond words so I must settle for 'beautiful'."

With that Mycroft pressed his lips to Artemis' own, just a chaste kiss but loving nevertheless.

"What is the word?" She questioned when they broke apart.

"What?" Mycroft raised a single eyebrow as a hint of puzzlement entered his voice.

"There is a word for everything even if it's in a different language, and a man like Mycroft Holmes isn't the sort to be stopped by a lack of vocabulary, so tell me the word."

_Ah, _thought the older man, _prove my intelligence. _He understood what she was asking, what she wanted of him. Mycroft was the man who figured everything out, had an answer for all things. He could do this so he nodded ever so slightly.

"Very well." He agreed then took a moment to comb through his vast mind and knowledge. "You are … _ethereal_."

Another kiss, shorter than the previous. The dress had started to bring up that primal urge again, the one that wanted him to just rip the dress off and take her against the wall there at the bottom of the stairs; claim her. Mycroft didn't though, he had too much control of himself for that and once they'd broken apart Artemis smirked; something which had started to become slightly more frequent as of late. Slowly she raised up her right hand brushed away the transfer of her lipstick from his lips with her thumb.

"Probably best if the man who runs the entire country doesn't show up wearing my lipstick."

That made him smirk. "These people do far weirder things, I assure you."

He let her wipe the deep maroon away from his lips and then looped their arms together intent on leading her out the house after he'd grabbed his trademark umbrella, he really needed to get to the gala. Almost at the car he remembers he'd left the glass on the floor but decided he could fall over that later.

The drive to Sir Arthur's estate wasn't exactly long but it certainly wasn't sort either so the pair had plenty of time to discuss any further threats to his and Lady Smallwood's lives; the conversation did wonders to aid Mycroft in moving his attention from the way Artemis' naked thigh pressed against his leg.

"Have you managed to locate all the contract killers I informed you of?" Artemis enquired as the car turned a corner.

"Just about." He responded quickly. "Kerr O'Loughlin is in Prague and Jaeger is in Oslo. My people haven't been able to track down Vazquez just yet though he was spotted in Vienna four days ago."

"He's the one I'd watch out for, he's stupid to a point it's lead to a wild over-confidence."

Mycroft let out a little hum of understanding. "Yes, you said. I shall double our efforts to locate him, shouldn't take too long, we only missed him by a few days."

Soon the British Government and the former Reaper arrived at the Roxbridge estate and Mycroft stepped out first into the warm night air and was momentarily struck by a little pang of annoyance that there still wasn't a breeze. Like a perfect gentleman he helped Artemis out of the car and marvelled at the way the light of the full moon bounced off of her dress almost making her sparkle. So beautiful.

The pair turned their attention to the house where the gala appeared to be in full swing inside the gargantuan mansion. It was an old building clearly two hundred years old at least and lit up like Christmas. Somehow the Roxbridge's event planners had managed to turn a house into an extrovert.

Together they made their way up the old stone steps and stopped just outside a set of open double doors from which the sound of chatter and classical music poured outwards. On either side of the doors stood two guards who looked like they'd stepped out of the most stereotypical American club film ever and a young, and rather short, red-haired woman who accepted the carefully written invitations as people arrived. She greeted him with a smile while Artemis mentally assessed the capabilities of these two guards. Mycroft fished inside his tux jacket a moment in search of the invitation only to hand it over, the young lady flashed a black light over then clipped it to the clipboard she held along with the others.

"Thank you, Mister Holmes." She grinned. "Please enjoy your evening."

Mycroft nodded his thanks then led his truly stunning plus one into the historic house and left his umbrella in the stand just a short distance from the door. The Roxbridges had existed in England all the way back to the time of George I, they'd probably be around for several more hundred years as well. The walls were a stately red with marble columns dotted about the place and a health amount of wainscoting. Paintings in golden frames of long dead ancestors hung on almost every exposed section of wall and someone had gone a little over the top with the floral displays. A great hubbub ran through the estate from those inside and out chit-chatting about this and that; what Gregory would have referred to as 'ruling the world mumblings'.

Artemis couldn't spot any set room for this gala to be held in, people – of which there were dozens upon dozens – just seemed to have taken over the whole house and Artemis had absolutely no idea what the fuck she was meant to do at this gala but, fortunately, Mycroft was well versed in these events and easily led her though the house with hand firmly on the small of her back. Slowly the pair walked along a partially large hall with several people wandering around talking to one another about whatever rich old people talked about. Soon after several more halls and the occasional pause to greet someone Mycroft guided Artemis into a smaller room which turned out to be some kind of billiard room decorated in dark wood, greens and yet more paintings. An impressive fireplace took up almost the entirety of the left wall as they entered and was lit despite the hot evening. Four chairs set out in a little square with a short coffee table between them dominated the space in front of the fire, two were occupied by men both somewhere in their late forties, one a graying brunette the other a blond. On the right side of the billiard room stood two people having a game while a fifth man – the youngest of them all who Myc recognized as Jackson Greene – watched. Everyone seemed to ignore the bodyguards dotted around, like they didn't exist until needed.

"Good evening, gentlemen." Mycroft greeted pleasantly when they stepped into the far quieter room.

Five sets of eyes instantly flicked up to the British Government but then, very quickly, turned to Artemis; something which wasn't lost on Mycroft for a moment, he could have rolled his eyes and the other men wouldn't have noticed in that movement. Something in the back of his mind purred though at the knowledge that Artemis was so eye-catching while being entirely _his_.

"Good evening, Mycroft." Said the taller of the two men at the billiard table in a thick accent.

The man was none other than Hãnse Jørgensen, an attaché from the Greenlandic consulate, he was a good-hearted family man who took pride in doing a good job, a man who had Holmes the elder's respect.

"Yes." Agreed Thomas Fusco; the CIA station chief who oversaw any and all operations in the UK. The American had worked closely with Mycroft for almost a decade now. "And do tell us who this lovely lady is."

Fusco ignored the fact it was his turn to try to pocket a ball and instead flashed Artemis his most charismatic smile. The American liked to think himself something of a ladies man.

Kindly Mycroft introduced his colleagues and acquaintances to Artemis. "Certainly, this is Artemis, my bodyguard."

Eyebrows shot up at that and Myc was fairly sure he'd heard one of the other bodyguards stifle a laugh. It wasn't necessarily that they'd believed Artemis incapable of being a guard, more that in her dress she looked so sweet and innocent. The real controller of all England ignored this and instead went to sit in on of the two vacant armchairs with his back to the door opposite Stefan and Percy while Artemis, of course, remained standing so she could keep en eye on the entire room and the doorway.

"The all-powerful Mycroft Holmes now carts a woman around to protect him." Said Sir Percy with an underlining taunt.

Truthfully Mycroft didn't like Sir Percy Statham and nor did anyone else in the room. The blond was Edwin's deputy and just had a tenancy to rub people the wrong way. He wasn't exactly the worst of sexists but there was certainly a lot of prejudiced there.

"Now, now, Sir Percy, if history has taught us anything it is to never underestimate a woman." The Polish man smiled but there was kindness in his blue eyes. "Especially one so beautiful."

Sir Percy cast a momentary glance to the graying brunette man at his side before returning it to Artemis, or more correctly her dress.

While Sir Percy wasn't particularly liked the same wasn't true of Stefan Lewandowski – the First Secretary at the Polish Embassy – no, Lewandowski was a surprisingly kind man for his job. He seemed like a man out of his time, his mannerisms and sense of fashion would have been more at home in the forties. While he spoke with unmistakable Polish accent it wasn't nearly as thick as Jørgensen's Greenlandic one.

"Isn't that the damn truth." Greene chortled as he leaned against the billiard table.

While the other four men seemed prepared to move on but Statham's somewhat bigoted mind had taken over.

"Perhaps, but still-"

Mycroft cut him off, partly because otherwise they'd never move on but mostly because Mycroft rather liked the idea of shutting Sir Percy up; he really wasn't in the mood for more of Statham's sexist shit. Fusco could have his moments at times but that was just the way he spoke, he never meant anything by it and was smart enough to realize when he'd gone a little too far and apologize for it. Meanwhile Statham appeared to have some deep-seated belief that women were little more than playthings.

With a smirk and without taking his eyes from Statham, Mycroft spoke. "Artemis, how many ways – just in this room – have you calculated to kill Sir Percy here, hmm?"

"Seven."

Artemis hadn't even pause for a split second, her answer was smooth and without a hint of irritation or amusement. Lewandowski and Jørgensen shared bemused smirks with one another, it was always enjoyable to see Sir Percy Statham put in his place. Fusco leaned on his cue stick to watch bemused as the events before him unfolded; it would certainly be better than anything which had happened at the CIA station that day.

"Seven." Mycroft repeated, though his eyes were hard he couldn't prevent the small smirk which had started to crawl its way onto his lips. "And if you got _really _creative?"

Artemis knew what Mycroft was doing, she knew that tone of voice well and she'd play along for him. That was how the green-eyed killer found herself peering around the lavishly decorated – slightly overly opulent – room.

"Nine." She amended.

"Perhaps, Sir Percy would like a demonstration of what a woman is capable of." Jørgensen suggested intent on getting in on pissing Sir Percy off.

The blond's eyes went wide at that clearly worried because he'd finally managed to move on from Artemis' breasts and up to the scar at her throat.

"Perhaps she should, however, Artemis is not a performing monkey and I'd hate for her to get blood all over the floors."

"Four of my options wouldn't leave any blood."

Fusco, Lewandowski and Jørgensen all burst out laughing in a mix of accents at that comment while Greene did his best to stifle his own chuckle behind his hand. Statham rather looked like a child whose mother had yelled at him in front of his friends. _Mission accomplished then, _muttered Mycroft's mind. Having done exactly what he'd intended Mycroft elected to change the subject as Artemis perched on the arm of his chair, an act which showed off those beautiful legs of hers.

"Thomas, have you managed to shut down your little problem yet?"

The American nodded as he lined up his shot. "Did indeed, thanks, Mycroft." He paused a moment to glance at Holmes the elder. "Sometimes I wonder why people have to get so offended about fucking everything."

Lewandowski's brow furrowed. "There is a lady present, Thomas, be polite."

Mycroft shrugged a little. "During the Second World War the Japanese made and mass-produced land minds made of terracotta."

The Greenlandic attaché raised a single questioning eyebrow. "You're point?"

"Simple." Began the auburn-haired man. "Never underestimate the human desire to kill one another and the ingenuity they will use in order to complete that desire."

Greene's sunken hazel eyes turned to fix themselves onto the man who essentially ran England – and probably a couple of other countries as well – as he tried to process exactly what thoughts went through his mind.

"You're a dark one, aren't you?"

Fusco breathed out a laugh as he moved around the billiard table. "This guy is practically the real life Ozymandias, must make Miss Artemis his Silk Spectre."

"I'd certainly like to see the outfit." Statham finally settled back into his smirks and rested against his soft chair with a hungry grin.

"Ten." Artemis suddenly said which got a raised eyebrow from the prejudice blond.

"'Ten'?" Statham questioned.

Artemis explained. "I forgot about your bow tie, so it's ten ways to kill you."

Once more that set off a round of chuckling which even Mycroft couldn't resist. After that the men continued to converse over this and that, business things on a global scale while Artemis listened to everything going on outside the room and stayed alert. She didn't need to know what Mycroft was talking about, Artemis didn't work for the British government, no, she worked for Mycroft.

Eventually, after maybe a half hour, the auburn-haired man finally rose to his feet unable to take the heat by the fire and excused himself intent on finding the foreign secretary and then escaping back to his home.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Enjoy the rest of Sir Arthur's delight of a party."

Jørgensen nodded his goodbye. "Always so polite, Mycroft."

Together Mycroft and Artemis left the billiard room and made their way back out into the hustle and bustle of the gala, he guided her through the vast house with a large hand on the small of her back; the pads of his fingers ran over the detailed work of her dress and delighted in the slight scratch it gave him.

He was fairly certain the foreign minister would be somewhere in the ballroom at the rear of the house so he headed straight for it with the wonderful Artemis on his arm. Unfortunately the tall man and his plus one got stopped hardly fifteen feet from the billiard room by Sir Arthur Roxbridge – a rather short man who'd started to bald – and his dainty wife, Lillian, as they spoke with the Home Secretary.

"Ah, Mycroft." Started Roxbridge as soon as he spotted the taller man. "I wondered when you would appear from the shadows."

He nodded. "Yes, good evening, Sir Arthur."

"Mmm, when are you going to let them knight you?" The elder man asked with a little too big of a smile.

"I have no intention of _ever _adding Sir to my name."

That was true, Mycroft was a man who worked in the shadows, a man who had no need for titles and powerful station.

"Shame," said Lady Lillian. "Sir Mycroft does have quite the ring to it."

Quietly the Home Secretary bid everyone a goodbye then excused herself to get another glass of champagne.

"Well do enjoy the party along with your … _lovely _wife."

Had Artemis been prone to shock or surprise – generally any warning-less emotional burst – she'd have raised an eyebrow at the word 'wife'; Mycroft wasn't the marring kind. She'd expected him to instantly correct Sir Arthur but instead he plastered on that fake, happy to see people smile of his.

"Where are my manners? Sir Arthur, Lady Lillian, this is Artemis."

With a toothy smile Sir Arthur lifted Artemis' hand so he could press a gentle kiss to it which his wife didn't seem too pleased about.

"I always wondered about the ring he wears, nice to see he's finally letting such a beauty out of the house." He chuckled in what he assumed was a charming way.

Obviously Roxbridge nor his wife had been in the loop in regards to everything that had happened with Hades. Had he known he'd probably have backed away from Artemis fearing his death.

"Pleasure." Was all Lillian said.

"Likewise." Responded Artemis.

She only spoke because she'd heard Mycroft say that before and guessed it would probably be best to be polite and try not to show the auburn-haired man up.

Roxbridge's gray eyebrows shot up as a smile appeared. "Ooh, and American to boot, you are full of surprises, Mycroft."

Had Artemis glanced at Mycroft she'd have noticed the momentary slip of his mask which revealed a split second of puzzlement before he affixed it again like nothing had ever happened and returned his attention to Roxbridge and his wife.

"But of course. Please excuse us."

With that he guided his bodyguard away, his hand still on the small of her back. Together they slipped away, scooted around other guests of the gala. The 'wife' word had stuck in Artemis head though and she had questions about it.

"You didn't correct him that I'm not your wife."

There wasn't any bite in her voice – never was – it was just a piece of information she was missing and required an answer to. Mycroft hardly missed a beat.

"Trust me, it was far easier and it also prevented Sir Arthur attempting to seduce you in front of his wife. That woman has the restraint of a saint, I don't know how she does it." They turned around a corner passed an ornate staircase. "Also, why are you suddenly speaking with an American accent?"

"Oh, I've decided this is what I sound like now. You asked me to choose an accent and I think Artemis sounds American. It's the accent I had when you named me so it is almost like a birth accent."

Mycroft couldn't really argue, she'd done exactly what he'd asked of her and had given it great thought it seemed. Artemis had thought for herself and made a decision on who she wanted to be without pressure or guidance from himself or anyone else. Truthfully he rather liked the American voice, it reminded him of the stunning little girl he'd carried into the cabin in Finland.

"Is that going to be a problem?" She asked quietly so as only he'd hear her while they continued to walk.

Myc shook his head. "Not at all. I asked you to choose for yourself and you have. If your wish is to appear American then that is who you are, my love."

While Artemis couldn't actually feel pleased or gratitude she experienced something akin to it upon hearing his acceptance. She'd chosen American – New England by the sound of it – because that was how she'd been when they'd met, when he'd named her, when he'd essentially created her. Artemis had debated using her native Russian but no, that had been Mariska not Artemis.

The pair continued through the seemingly endless house and Artemis had started to wonder why she'd not asked for a map to this place days earlier; she'd expected a house about Mycroft's side – which wasn't exactly small – but this place was taking the piss. Occasionally Mycroft greeted people like he cared about their existence while he headed for the ballroom in search of his prize, namely the foreign secretary. Mycroft never paused to speak with any of them and hardly even glanced at Stefan Lewandowski when they stumbled upon him again as he spoke with a young woman.

The music grew louder as they approached the ballroom and soon the grand room came into view. There were two small steps which lead down into a room with way too much marble flooring. People were gathered in huddles as they muttered of government secrets and God only knew what else, while other couples danced together. Some of the ballroom's occupants paused to look at Artemis who stood out in her sliver and gray, though she didn't know if they looked because of her dress like with Sir Percy or it was all down to the fact Mycroft _never _showed up with anyone on his arm; the eternal loner when it came right down to it. Artemis was just like Mycroft really, it was just that they'd decided to be alone together.

Just before they could head down the small steps into the almost ostentatious ballroom Lady Smallwood appeared as if she'd teleported with her new gentleman friend, Lord Justice, Sir Christian Hallow. Smallwood flashed Mycroft a smile which faltered a second when she saw Artemis and she squeezed Hallow's arm just a little tighter.

"Ah, hello, Mycroft." She trilled.

Her hair was up, held in place by an ornate hair stick and her lips were a bold red that Mycroft mentally determined to be a little young for her. The dress she wore hung down to mid-calf and was midnight blue with three-quarter sleeves and a high neckline; it was the delicate lace overlay which gave the dress its character though. The elder woman looked nice enough but Mycroft would have still rather taken Artemis home so he could just stare at her. He'd have also liked to have scooted around Smallwood and Hallow but she didn't seem in the mood to let him get away so easily.

"Lady Smallwood, a pleasure to see you as always."

Lie! He had much better things to do and everyone knew it even if they were too polite to say anything about it.

"Oh, you remember Christian Hallow." She said as she patted the judge's arm.

"Yes, of course. Nice to see you again, Sir Christian."

The two men shook hands as the gala continued around them, soft classical music and chatter.

"Likewise, Mycroft."

Artemis honestly didn't understand why everyone had to go to such extents for etiquette, it was pointless and a waste of their time. Artemis also noticed the way that Lady Smallwood kept staring at her with pursed lips and irritation so clear even Artemis found it easy to register. Mycroft must have seen it as well while he chatted with Hallow because she soon felt his slender fingers tapping against her hip where it took her less than a second to start reading off his Morse Code in her head; _would you mind getting me a drink from the bar?_ She knew exactly what he was doing, trying to put some distanced between his Artemis and Smallwood, certainly more for the elder woman's benefit. Artemis couldn't have cared less what Smallwood thought about her and it was clear from the way Hallow kept subconsciously flicking his eyes to Artemis' chest that her mere presence had started to piss the Parliament member off. First Artemis had come out of nowhere and laid claim to the most intelligent and silently powerful man in the country, and now Christian Hallow couldn't stop treating himself to the view of her breasts. The dress Artemis wore wasn't in any way inappropriate for the event but it was certainly a show stopper.

"Of course, British." She answered uncaring that no one else knew Mycroft had asked a question.

She left his grasp and slipped away into the crowd, around waiters who took glasses of champagne to every corner of the estate and guests who were literally _everywhere. _Mycroft didn't watch her go, wasn't like any danger would befall her.

Hallow grinned a little too wide for his face. "British? Is that her little nickname for you?"

"It is, yes." The taller man nodded.

That was all Mycroft wished to say on the subject. The reason for said nickname was top-secret as well as personal.

Meanwhile Artemis headed to the bar while watching the people around her go about their night at the party, some of them she'd seen before in meetings with the elder Holmes or just in the MI6 hallways, but most of them were entirely new to her; some the public would know by name while others worked in the shadows.

As soon as she reached the large bar back towards the front of the house they'd passed some time ago she ordered a scotch for Mycroft – he'd never been a much of a champagne fan. While she waited Artemis glanced her polished emeralds around to the mass of people all around her, it was easy for her to spot the guests from the bodyguard; the wolves from the sheep. It didn't matter that they'd been dressed in posh, expensive suits, no, it was all in the way they carried themselves, backs straight and arms kept before them with their hands cupped while their eyes flashed around in search of possible threats.

The scotch was set before her and Artemis grabbed the glass quickly so she could return to Mycroft's side. As she walked Artemis passed a young woman probably a little younger than herself, she was dressed as one of the waiting staff with her hair in a high ponytail and caring a silver tray of canapés. This girl didn't exactly look out of place but something didn't sit right with Artemis about this stranger. Still, she continued back through the house to find Mycroft had managed to make it into the ballroom and speak with the foreign secretary, the only issue seemed to be Lady Smallwood and Sir Christian had tagged along with him; even playing polite he'd managed to scoot himself to his primary goal for the night.

Carefully she lifted her dress with one hand as she made her way down the little steps into the ballroom and straight to her tall man. Artemis slipped back into place at his side and handed him his drink only for him to slip his arm back around her slender waist; the touch wasn't possessive exactly just a grounding touch which kept her there with him.

"Thank you, Artemis."

She ignored most of what he discussed with the blond foreign secretary, Lady Smallwood and the Lord Justice, it had nothing to do with her and they probably all spoke for a good half hour. She kept her attention focused around the room just to keep an eye out to begin with but soon green eyes spotted two more waiters, one roughly the same age as the girl she'd seen while the other was a good thirty years older than him. These men stuck out to her, they weren't right but Artemis didn't quite know _why_. They didn't seem to be very good at their jobs, missed people who clearly had intentions of grabbing one of the canapés. These people seemed more focused on looking around much as Artemis had to surveil the room, then she saw a third man far behind her, this one was in his late fifties and that was when it all clicked for her; Artemis knew that face and he sure as fuck wasn't a waiter. Andreas Mandrapilias. Without her face showing even a hint of concern Artemis peered around her, over her shoulder, as she tried to access who these people would be after since there were a _lot _of powerful people of several nationalities at this gala, that was when she saw the female she'd noticed by the bar again, she must have been Rhea Mandrapilias. Rhea looked around like the other men but then found Mycroft and Lady Smallwood on the far side of the room and Artemis had to accept the fact that they weren't after any of the other people at the event, this was all about the contract on Mycroft Holmes that Hades had failed to complete. Artemis watched as Rhea moved towards her father, Andreas, as calmly as she could then muttered something before they broke off to inform Andreas' three sons and his brother, Yannis Mandrapilias. This was serious.

"British?" Artemis got no answer from Mycroft, he was part way through a much needed conversation. She wasn't being ignored exactly, just put of for a moment. "British."

Her second attempt didn't get any answer out of him either so Artemis gave up and just moved to what she knew would work and would work quickly. These people were converging on Mycroft and Smallwood so she simply elbowed him sharply in the ribs which got a deep hiss from him and finally, _finally_, he looked down at her. He had his back to the threat, was completely unaware of it all.

"Yes, Artemis?" He asked while he rubbed at his side.

"Quincey Morris." Artemis told him stoically.

Lady Smallwood, the foreign secretary and Lord Justice all furrowed their brows as confusion overtook them, 'Quincey Morris' wasn't exactly a normal thing to say after one had elbowed a man. While they were confused Mycroft's face paled before he tensed and took a calming breath.

"'Quincey Morris' what on earth is she talking about, Mycroft?" Lady Smallwood practically scoffed.

"We're under attack from a force greater than ourselves who could kill us easily."

The three people he'd been speaking with instantly let their faces fall from puzzlement to fear as they started to back away towards the steps in search for escape; Mycroft helped to guide them away. Artemis, however, she remained very, very still.

_The inspirations for Artemis' outfit._


	30. The Things We Do To Survive

Quickly but quietly Artemis slipped off her heels while the party continued around her then tossed them to Mycroft who caught them despite not looking too happy to essentially be left holding his girlfriend's shoes.

"Sorry."

For a moment Mycroft didn't have the first idea as to why she'd be sorry, she wasn't the cause of the threat and was probably going to be the only one to do anything about it. However, it all clicked for him when she simply ripped her dress to take off the skirt from the mid thigh down which left her legs exposed; that certainly drew other party goer's attention. Mycroft could practically feel the tension rising in the ballroom. The Mandrapilias' were too focused on Mycroft to notice Artemis' little peculiarity and that was what provided her the chance to grab who she assumed to be the youngest son, Xenon. In an instant she tugged his belt entirely out the lops, snapped it around his beck through the buckle and pulled _hard_.

That was when all hell broke loose, people quickly backed away from Artemis and Xenon, a couple of them even screamed as an almost perfectly circular void developed between the killers and the guests. The older man she'd assumed to be Yannis Mandrapilias launched at Artemis only to get kicked square in chest knocking him backwards and forcing Xenon to slip, when his knees hit the hard marble the tell-tale snap of his neck sounded and Artemis just let go of the belt without another thought. Around her yet more people screamed but she had just murdered a young man in front of them all. Artemis didn't have time to pause though because from her left came the middle son, Dunixi, who used his height and strength advantage to force Artemis to the ground as bodyguards finally caught up with what was going on and started to move their charges out of harms way as fast as they were able rather than making any attempt to actually help Artemis deal with the threats. No, she'd need to put them down on her own. The raven-haired beauty managed to deflect his attempt to stab her then roll away from him, she grabbed an unopened champagne bottle from a table where one of the real waiters had intended on setting up new drink trays and promptly smacked Dunixi over the head of it. Rhea launched over the table kicking and smashing the champagne flutes but she only got the same treatment as her older brother. Had Artemis not been fighting for her own – and more importantly Mycroft's – life she'd have been surprised the bottle hadn't broken.

With a second to breathe Artemis pulled her gun and put Dunixi down. The bang was loud and echoed around the ballroom violently, it was the sort of sound that left everyone in a stunned silence for a moment before panic took over once again and what was essentially a mini stampede ensued. Mycroft himself continued to back away pushing Lady Smallwood along behind him but his concerned eyes remained firmly on the woman he loved. He appeared to be the only one not freaking out, no, Holmes the elder smiled because that was his girl, he didn't see a killer or a murderer, he saw a protector. Hardly two minutes had gone by and Artemis had already eliminated two threats to everyone's lives.

"Σκυλα! Ποιος νομίζεις ότι είσαι?!" (Bitch! Who do you think you are?!) Andreas screamed as his eyes flicked angrily between his two dead sons.

" Με λένε Αρτεμις." (My name is Artemis) She responded without missing a beat, just watched as this man grew angrier and angrier at the sight before him.

Andreas' eyes darkened then as he looked her over, he'd trained his children himself and this girl had killed them with hardly any effort at all.

"What the hell are you?" He demanded this time in English.

Green eyes looked him over a moment then around the room at the chaos he'd caused. Everyone always asked 'what' Artemis was rather than 'who'. She could feel Mycroft's eyes on her as screams started to calm down and the room cleared out.

"I'm the spectre at the foot of your bed. I'm the one with fingernails the color of rust. I'm the one who sends you to whichever god you wish. I'm who kills so others can keep their gilded arms. I am what's left when children go to war. Just a little girl ripped apart and squashed back together to resemble something akin to human. Something designed to do the dirty work so old, fat people can carry on running the world from their ivory towers without getting so much as a splash of blood on the soles of their shoes. I am the one with nothing because they took my soul. No thoughts nor feelings. Nothing. Except for him ." She gestured to Mycroft over by the steps. "So I ask you this plainly, do you really want to play this game with me?"

Andreas' hands clenched into fists as his hazel eyes darkened with ire at the loss of his children.

"Oh yeah." He nodded.

That was that then, he was dumb enough to offer up his remaining children and his brother. Yannis tried to blindside her but Artemis had learned her lesson after what had happened with Charon and used the champagne bottle to strike him then threw it at Rhea as she finally managed to stand up where it slapped expertly into her face only to roll away. In one smooth motion Artemis yanked Yannis to her by his loose bow tie and shoved him in front of herself just as Andreas fired and used the older man as a human shield. Yannis was a heavy man, at an age where he'd started to become more chubby than muscle so was a little too heavy for Artemis to hold up and he slipped out of her grasp to the ground between his nephews. When she looked up Andreas and what she assumed was his eldest son had already started to rush after Mycroft as he cleared the room while Rhea kicked open the side door to the gardens. Artemis made to shoot her and further reduce the threats to Mycroft but the unthinkable happened, her gun jammed, Artemis took good care of her weapons, that hadn't _ever _happened before. She'd not got time to dwell on the functionality of her guns though so, without a word, she dropped it and rushed after the two men.

The halls were far more clear than the ballroom had been with most of the gala guests having already cleared out but they were by no means empty. The spattering of people was how Andreas and his oldest child, Nikolas, had managed to slip away. Suddenly Mycroft grabbed her by the elbow while Lady Smallwood clung to Christian muttering something which sounded suspiciously like 'please not again'.

"I think we should leave, don't you?" There was urgency in his voice and rightly so.

Artemis shook her head. "Three hostiles left. Stay between me and the wall."

Mycroft obeyed really rather calmly while Lady Smallwood and Sir Christian slipped into line behind him; amazing how Elizabeth magically stopped hating Artemis when she was saving her life. Artemis knew Andreas Mandrapilias wasn't the sort to give up and run, especially not after the loss of Dunixi, Xenon and Yannis. He'd jump out from somewhere and he'd do it soon, he was a man who still experienced rage and it made him predictable and far easier for Artemis to kill; Hades had always killed emotions first for a reason. Her eyes worked quickly scanning through the mass of people still pouring out of every exit in search, if she couldn't see the enemy she couldn't stop them harming Mycroft.

Over the cries and yells of guests trying to get out a came a sudden and sharp yelp and Artemis snapped her attention to one o'clock just in time to spot Andreas plunge a knife into a bodyguard who'd grabbed him. Their eyes locked a moment as he raised he weapon and fired. Artemis had been shot a number of times, didn't feel the pain, but even so she was fairly sure she'd managed to dodge this one and somewhere in the back of her mind she though she'd heard a sharp hiss.

The wounded bodyguard – a well built man with slicked back brown hair – kneed Andreas and shoved the hand holding his gun into the wall so forcefully he not only dropped it but it went skidding across the ground towards Artemis. Satisfied with her gift, she snatched up the Taurus and fired a single shot into his head then left the wounded bodyguard to deal with the dead weight in his arms.

Around her the urge for security to get their cargo out only grew once again increasing the difficulty Artemis had of finding the last two, Rhea and Nikolas. Still, she had a gun now. The raven-haired beauty in her ruined dress tuned out the havoc around her as she returned to Mycroft who had plucked out his phone and seemed more concentrated on typing as he followed behind her than the very clear possibility of death. He remained walking tall, eyes locked on his cell phone screen.

The sight of the front door - the one they'd entered through – came into view but the fight wasn't over, blocking her exit was Nikolas Mandrapilias, the eldest child who was the spitting image of his father just much younger.

Artemis wasn't quite sure what happened between her spotting him and her managing to kick him backwards, it had been a blur of silver metal and a man pretty intent on cutting her lungs out. With them blocking the front door everyone had lost their exit and had no choice but to just stand and watch the horror unfold. Seeing this momentary stumble as her best chance Artemis raised the Taurus only to have it knocked out of her hand when one of the serving trays smashed into her hand from the right. For a split second she was actually confused because how the fuck had Rhea gotten back into the house in all this chaos? Just another thing she couldn't risk dwelling on.

Next thing she knew both Nikolas and his baby sister were on top of Artemis, she'd single-handedly killed their entire family in under fifteen minutes, they couldn't have cared less about Mycroft and the contract any longer. Artemis managed to pluck up the tray as she dodged punches and smashed Rhea firmly in the face with it, the metal created an almost comical ting which would have brought the house down had the situation been different. In the background people continued to gasp, cry and panic.

Using the hardly there second she'd bought herself Artemis grabbed the small blade which had been firmly strapped to her thigh all night, snaked her bare legs around Rhea to keep her arms from flailing about and thrust the blade up into the base of her skill severing the brain stem quickly and really rather mercifully. Artemis didn't think she could do this much longer, they'd had numbers on their side and while she could endure much Artemis was a sharpshooter. Knowing she only had one left She spun around on the floor before the door to face into the house but it was too late, Nikolas loomed over her like the Grim Reaper looking for the next on its list, knife in hand and much too close for her to deflect. Maybe she'd dodged Death long enough.

In a flash a thin, sharp blade shot out the front of his chest having pierced Nikolas' heart, blood started slowly at first before it pooled out staining his white waiter shirt crimson. The sword was yanked back out of the man's body and he fell to the ground dead revealing Mycroft, eyes wide as he held the hidden sword he carried everywhere with him. The auburn-haired man forced his face to remain stoic and controlled while at least thirty people stared at him in shock.

Artemis just watched him as he took out his pocket square to clean off the long blade. She could see the way his eye twitched, the only indication that he wasn't as calm as he pretended to be. It was then she noticed the rip in the sleeve of his tuxedo and the blood which had started to darken the fabric; that bullet she'd dodged, it had struck him.

"Your arm." She said rather blankly simply because Artemis didn't know what else to say.

"Yes, as it turns out I've been shot." He was hiding behind sarcasm.

Mycroft finished cleaning off his sword and let the ruined pocket square fall to land on the tray Artemis had used to hit Rhea with, then – ever the gentleman – he held his hand out to help Artemis up which she took. Stood there before him Artemis didn't know what to do next, she'd dealt with the assassins and had ruined her dress. Green eyes watched on as he sheathed his sword back inside his umbrella then quietly walked over to Smallwood and Harrow knowing every single set of eyes followed him, he took Artemis' shoes from Harrow and held them loosely with one finger under the heels in the same hand as his ever present umbrella.

"Sir Arthur, I apologize for the inconvenience and damage." Mycroft began, his voice like a shout in the eerily quiet vestibule. Roxbridge nodded open mouthed at the things he'd just witnessed. "I have people on their way to clear up this mess. I suggest, in future, you vet your caterers with a more critical eye." With that he turned back to Lady Smallwood who still clung to the Lord Justice. "I've also taken the liberty of upping your security."

_He did all that in the few minutes it took me to kill everyone?_ Never let it be said Mycroft Holmes wasn't efficient. Eyes continued to bore into both Artemis and Mycroft while security personnel, who'd been next to useless for the most part, started to try and clear everyone out again.

"Do enjoy the rest of the party." There was the sarcasm once more.

Intent on leaving Mycroft slipped his arm around Artemis and guided her out the front door to where their car waited; just another thing he'd managed to organize with a few pushes of phone buttons. He practically threw Artemis inside and slammed the sleek door closed behind them as if it would magically keep the world out. The car took off quickly, due to Mycroft's orders or the driver's years of experience Artemis neither knew nor cared.

It was only when the Roxbridge estate had faded entirely into the night and they'd been driving almost ten minutes that Mycroft finally spoke.

"Who were they, Artemis." He did his best to keep all emotion from his deep voice. "I didn't recognize them and you eliminated almost all mercenary units when you went through possible attackers. They couldn't have been Hades, you killed them too easily."

Keeping his mind focused that was what Mycroft needed in that moment, so she indulged him.

"They're a Greek gang of killers, it's something of a family business for them. I didn't think they'd be stupid enough to take the contract. They've tried to claim Hades contracts before but never succeeded."

"Family?" Mycroft's eyebrows shot upwards leaving Artemis to simply nod.

"Yes. The Mandrapilias family. Andreas Mandrapilias was the leader, the old man I shot in the head. Then there was Yannis, his brother and his children; Nikolas, Dunixi, Xenon and Rhea."

The auburn-haired man swallowed audibly and Artemis anticipated the next question he'd ask, still she'd let him get the words out.

"Which- which one did I kill?"

"Nikolas." Came her easy answer.

She knew this was the first person Mycroft had killed and it wasn't a clean or easy kill either. There had been blood, Mycroft had felt the blade go through Nikolas Mandrapilias' back. Stabbing someone wasn't like on television, wasn't like a knife through butter, he'd had to go through more than just skin and blood. Mycroft had been forced to rip through tough muscle and organs, he'd possibly even glanced off of a rib. What Mycroft had done most certainly hadn't been easy for him despite how much he'd pretended for the others at the gala. Artemis never thought about the resistance that occurred when a blade plunged deep into a body, it wasn't important to her; hadn't ever needed to be.

She spent the entire – disturbingly quiet – trip home plastered to Mycroft's side fully aware that her presence comforted him greatly. When his home came into view she felt him relax a little, calm down, he'd started to get a hold of himself. He didn't speak when the car finally stopped just thrust the door open and stepped out intent on getting inside his house, Artemis had little choice but to follow after she'd grabbed her heels and Mycroft's umbrella. She glanced up at the huge full moon a moment as she followed the tall ginger, a breeze had finally picked up providing the night with some much needed cool air. She couldn't stand their all night though, so, as the car drove away, Artemis padded bare foot up the stone steps.

When she entered the room Mycroft had gone in to she flicked on the lights since Mycroft had elected to just wander through the darkness. She dropped her shoes on the floor and rested his umbrella against the wall while Mycroft sat on the antique piano stool and carefully removed his tux jacket. Artemis dug the first aid kit out from the back of a small cabinet atop which stood a decanter. He struggled with the shirt though so Artemis found herself silently helping him out of the stained fabric. When she just tossed the shirt aside Mycroft's OCD burst to the surface and he quickly ordered the clothes into a neat pile with his bow tie on the top, had Artemis been able to experience it she'd have probably grown annoyed or irritated but since she couldn't the raven-haired killer just stood and waited while Mycroft folded.

Finally Artemis got him to sit still so she could clean the blood away from his arm as he sat half-naked before her. Once most of the red had been cleared away she pinched him a little to check how deep the wound was only to get a sharp hiss out of him.

"Quit being a baby."

Mycroft straightened and raised both eyebrows at her.

"'Quit being a baby'?! I happen to have been shot and it hurts."

At least she'd gotten him speaking.

"You've been grazed. You're fine. Might get a scar though."

Mycroft's brain paused a moment at that comment, his eyebrows fell and he found himself just staring at her feet – which he now noticed had small drops of blood on them – and sighed. Artemis had taken so many scars for him, the bullet wounds and now the sideways Y shaped one at her neck. Her body had become a map of the pain she'd taken for him. Seemed only fair that Mycroft got a few as well.

The auburn-haired man sat there quietly by his piano while Artemis saw to his wound, it stung – Gods did it sting – but he did his best not to wince or release another hiss, not because he thought it would show weakness but because lingering in his thoughts dulled the pain. When he'd wiped the blood from his sword Mycroft had tried so hard to remain looking confident; couldn't let all those guests see him panic. He was going to have to do an awful lot of paperwork after this, of course the police wouldn't be involved and his people would have already been dealing with the journalists who'd been at Roxbridge's gala.

His eyes snapped shut with a sudden spark of pain as the needle jutted through his skin and Artemis set to work bringing his skin back together. The wound wasn't very deep, just a jagged line which would heal soon enough and probably would leave a slightly curved line as a scar.

After a while of silence Artemis decided to speak, silence didn't both her _ever _but she thought that Mycroft probably needed it; needed the voices to break through his inner thoughts. If Mycroft got too far inside his mind there'd, more than likely, be no getting him out of it for hours; possibly even days.

"I'm sorry for ruining the dress." She said with a loose gesture to the ripped hem of her once elegant and long gown.

Artemis wasn't stupid, she knew he didn't care but it was something to say, something to distract him with. It worked because Mycroft finally looked up at her instead of just at her feet, blue-gray eyes found polished emeralds. He looked over her slender body, from bare feet up her exposed legs and up to Artemis' mid-thigh where her once long dress was now asymmetrically ripped. Her hair had been carefully styled over her shoulder at the beginning of the night but now hung down her back a little hectically. Those maroon lips though, they were still perfectly lined and bold; so eye-catching. Artemis had looked beautiful earlier when she'd walked down those stairs and she was still beautiful now.

"I don't care about that." He told her somewhat pointlessly as she set the first aid kit aside having finished.

Once everything was out of her hands Mycroft wrapped his arms around her waist, with her being stood while he sat it was easy for him to snare her in his long arms and tug her bodily to him so he could press his cheek to her stomach just underneath her breasts. Automatically Artemis caressed his head and his hair softly, her touch soothed him and much tension seeped away. Mycroft honestly wasn't bothered that people had – once again – tried to kill him, no, what had bothered him was that _he'd _killed someone.

"I'm sorry." He whispered after a moment, his breath hot against the skin of her stomach.

"For what?"

Artemis was actually confused for a moment. What could Mycroft possibly be sorry for? He'd never done anything to hurt or upset her and there hadn't been any reason to apologize for her sewing him up.

"For killing him. I didn't have a choice, he'd have killed you."

"Then why are you sorry?" She asked with genuine perplexion.

Artemis killed people all the time and Mycroft had never asked her to apologize for it, hadn't ever given her a hint that was what he'd wanted. She truly didn't understand, Mycroft didn't need to be sorry.

"I'm not a killer." Mycroft didn't sound like himself, quieter, muted almost. "That's what you said to me, that's why you liked me all those years ago. I wasn't a killer, it's most of the reason you fell in love with me and now-"

Artemis cut him off, she could see the road his brain had started to head down and wouldn't let him get stuck.

"Mycroft." She tucked two fingers under her chin and forced him to look upwards at her with those usually icy eyes of his. She regarded him a moment; most of the time she felt nothing but just looking at Mycroft Holmes made her heart swell with love. "I don't love you because you hadn't killed anyone. I love you because you're _you_. There is a difference between having killed and being a killer, trust me if anyone knows that it's me. You've killed but you're certainly not a killer." She bent a little with his arms still around her so she could kiss him softly. "You saved my life tonight."

That got Mycroft to breathe out a short laugh. "I think it was probably about time. You have saved mine more times than I can count, you saved it five times alone tonight."

"Well, I rather like you being in the land of the living. Actually the most surprising moment of tonight was that champagne bottle, I honestly thought that would have smashed."

Mycroft laughed, genuinely laughed, a deep guttural noise which vibrated through Artemis' body where the half-naked man held on to her. He laughed because it was such a random thing to say and a complete change from the violence that had occurred that night. He could have started explaining about the pressure inside a champagne bottle but frankly he didn't care and didn't wish to ruin the moment. He knew she was distracting him from killing Nikolas Mandrapilias and he was thankful.

"I want to know where you were keeping that gun. Your dress was skin tight and partially see through. The knife I understand but the gun is beyond physics."

"Assassins always find a way."

That got another small chuckle from him, he'd started to sound more like his usual self again too.

"I'm just pleased you understood the term 'Quincey Morris'."

Mycroft hummed. "At least you didn't say Vatican Cameos."

He rested his head against her stomach and tattered dress once more and squeezed her a little in his arms, he could feel tension and worry slowly bleed away allowing him to relax but it certainly wasn't perfect by any means.

"I'll get you a drink. Medicinal drinking and all that."

The half-naked man said nothing just released her from his grasp with a tiny nod and watched as she headed out of the room.

As Artemis passed the stairs her foot bumped against something hard and when she peered down through the darkness she saw it to be the glass Mycroft had dropped hours earlier, she quickly bent to retrieve it then continued through the house and into the kitchen where she set it down to be dealt with later. Didn't take her more than a few seconds to grab a new glass for him then pulled open the liquor cabinet where Mycroft kept the _really _old scotch. From the rarely touched bottle she poured him a healthy dose into a clean tumbler and then headed back to Mycroft.

Just as she passed the room he kept his old projector set up in she noticed the sound of soft classical music had filled the air, a quiet caress of notes. She padded passed the stairs again and back into the room she'd left the British Government alone in to see him, still shirtless revealing the little freckles all over his shoulders, playing the piano. Artemis had always known he could play but hadn't ever heard it, hadn't ever seen the musical side of Mycroft Holmes. After a momentary pause she crossed the room and set the glass down atop the Bösendorfer grand piano while his fingers continued to produce gentle notes.

"I've never heard you play before. What is it?"

When Myc spoke he sounded much calmer than the rest of the night, he'd compartmentalized and moved his mind across to something softer, something soothing.

"Beethoven's piano sonata fourteen, it's more commonly known as _Moonlight."_ He continued to play. "When I was young my mother insisted upon me learning an instrument and the piano seemed to call to me. When Sherlock was born I tried to teach him once he was old enough and he'd been doing well, but when Eurus offered him the violin he jumped at it. I'm not sure if he can even remember me teaching him."

He stopped abruptly then, the melody died a sudden death, and plucked his drink up to take a swig.

"Do you not need to speak with Lady Smallwood or perhaps Sir Edwin?"

Artemis asked, she knew this wouldn't be like when she'd worked with Hades, he'd not just carry on like it had never happened.

Mycroft shrugged, actually shrugged. "I have teams taking care of things, everything else can wait until I get into the office tomorrow morning."

"That doesn't sound like the workaholic I know." She told him without a hint of judgement.

Mycroft smirked and downed the last of his drink before he put the glass down again. He spun around on the stool to face Artemis who'd been almost directly behind him and raked those calculating eyes of his up her lovely body. Without a word he reached up and in one smooth motion tugged the straps of her dress off her shoulders, then pulled down the little zip at the small of her back. Artemis didn't complain as the teeth of the tiny zip gave way, not for a second. As soon as the zip was open the ruined dress fell to the floor leaving her stood there before him in her hardly there panties.

"How about the lover you know?"

Artemis nodded slowly. "Mmm, it does sound a lot like him."

Mycroft stood then and lifted Artemis up so she was forced to snake her legs around his waist. While he wasn't a particularly strong man – physically speaking – he'd hold Artemis like that in his arms forever if he got a chance. With a kiss which stained his lips maroon he carried her off upstairs, he wanted to be with Artemis, didn't want to think about killing and death just wanted to think about Artemis and loving her.

~X~

Mycroft stood by his window as the sun threatened to rise, stars had started to disappear and just a sliver of daylight lingered in the far off distance. For a second he glanced back across the room to see Artemis asleep on her side, the covers only partially covering her naked form. He leaned against the window frame which had ruffled the sleeve of his dark green pyjamas, the sound hardly there despite the quietude. Everything was eerily still, the small breeze had died off leaving the trees off in the distance motionless and statuesque.

He'd killed someone. Yes, Mycroft had seen death many times before – memories of watching a man shoot himself in Eurus' cell continued to haunt him – but this had been different, he'd actually taken matters into his own hands and killed a man. Mycroft didn't regret it, not for a single second, had he not done what he had and ended Nikolas Mandrapilias' then Artemis wouldn't have been sleeping in his bed in that moment. Logically Mycroft knew not to blame himself, the death had been justified and necessary, but that didn't really make him feel much better as he stood at his window staring outwards.

He'd stood there so long his feet had turned to ice, part of the reason he'd put his pyjamas on, and with a sigh Mycroft decided he needed to try and get some sleep even if it was only an intermittent couple of hours.

"I wondered if you'd come back to bed." Said Artemis through the darkness as Mycroft pulled the covers over them.

He didn't jump, Artemis had been trained to be a light sleeper and always woke up when he moved. Mycroft lay on his side facing her with only the teasing of daylight to light the room, he slipped a hand over her flesh to rest on Artemis' hip where his thumb brushed back and forth over the little scars there, just a series of tiny lines of varying lengths which Mycroft had always thought were odd compared to the other marks on her; one long then three much shorter though none were particularly large.

"How did you get these?" He asked just for something to say, his body still wasn't quite ready to let him sleep.

"I cut myself with a scalpel." She responded as though it were simple.

Mycroft's brow furrowed deeply as his thumb unconsciously pressed harder into them as if he could brush them away.

"Why?" His voice was but a whisper; _why would you do this to yourself?_

"It grounded me, reminded me of you without letting anyone else know that's what it is."

The auburn-haired man's brow just furrowed deeper. He didn't understand but then something triggered in the back of his mind. One long and three short. Morse Code for B.

"B. As in British?"

Artemis nodded as the pair lay together in the big bed. He hated that she'd hurt herself but adored that she'd kept him with her after that cabin and everything that had happened. For a moment he wondered what would have happened had other Reapers noticed the tiny scars but then disregarded it, had they seen it they'd have only thought of it as scars; why would she have marked herself when there wasn't any emotion?

Slowly he leaned in to kiss his girl softly on the lips then rolled onto his back and pulled her with him so she settled against his chest, if he was going to sleep that position would be his best shot. After a moment he lifted his left arm letting his pyjama sleeve tumble to his elbow then held his wrist out for Artemis to see, there she spotted a very small, hardly even the circumference of the end of a ball point pen, letter A tucked up where his wrist became the start of his thumb. It was the sort of thing one wouldn't notice easily and had they just caught a glimpse of it they'd have likely dismissed it as a mole or a freckle. The A wasn't in any intricate script either, seemed more like a typewriter had slapped the letter on in one motion, but that was the point. Mycroft's micro-tattoo wasn't for anyone else and it didn't need to be elaborate, just needed to be for him.

"You're not the only one who thought of that, my love."

Artemis snuggled up closer to his body warming it up wonderfully. Yes, maybe he could get some sleep like this.


	31. A Day At The Office

It wasn't unusual for Mycroft to wake and find the bed empty beside him, Artemis having already risen since she slept even less than he did. Some days he easily found her in the shower, other times his house seemed silent and leaving him to assume she'd be down in the basement. No, he was used to this, so Mycroft hardly even batted an eye as he got out of bed alone. The auburn-haired man took a quick shower to wash away his sleep then dressed in one of his usual three piece suits; glen check with a blue shirt and navy tie.

When he finally reached the bottom of the stairs the rich scent of Columbian coffee quickly lured him through the large house and into the kitchen where Artemis had left a pot waiting for him. He poured himself a cup and drank down a large gulp and once again tried to force down the memory of Nikolas Mandrapilias' body at his feet, this was a new day and he needed to accept he'd had no choice..

Intent on leaving Artemis to whatever it was she did when she vanished into the basement with all her guns and knives, Mycroft headed to his office only to find the door unlocked which gave him pause. Mycroft _never _left that door unlocked, especially not when his laptop was in there. Quietly he slipped inside already aware of what he'd find. Inside he spotted Artemis sat at his desk tapping away as if his computer hadn't been password protected. Had he found Sherlock he'd have rushed over and grabbed his laptop but it wasn't like Artemis was going to launch a missile or anything, that was how he found himself easily walking across the room as he continued to sip at his coffee.

"What are you doing, Artemis?" Asked Mycroft as he came to a stop beside her.

"Attempting to trace the contract for your death back to a source." She responded without looking up. "So far I've narrowed it down to three countries, surprisingly Russia and China are not amongst them."

Mycroft took another sip of his rich coffee. "That laptop has some of the most confidential information in the country on it, that is why it is behind three locks and the windows in here are all heavily re-enforced. It's also password protected."

"Yeah, I saw you put it in last week and took advantage. Good job I'm on your side, right?"

Artemis didn't even pause in her typing, not that Mycroft expected her to, he was however grateful she was indeed on his side. He couldn't even be bothered to sigh so instead perched on the edge of the desk and stared out the window as he spoke.

"Indeed." He said slowly. "Are you sure it's a government who has put this kill order out? Seems very lax."

"Well, considering I've just ruled out North Korea and I seriously doubt Liechtenstein or San Marino want you dead, I would have to say no. Now it is looking more likely that you have pissed someone off personally."

"Oh, nothing new there then." He smirked with a casual glance down to his little assassin the peered to look at what she was doing with his resources.

Seriously had _anyone _else been messing around with his laptop he'd have had them in a MI6 cell by now being waterboarded. Artemis, however, he trusted Artemis explicitly and knew she was only trying to keep him – and by extension Lady Smallwood – alive. So Mycroft remained silent while he finished his coffee and watched her work. She shifted to known enemies such as lingering players who'd survived Sherlock's elimination of Moriarty's network – Sebastian Moran being chiefly amongst them – as well as a whole host of other things; for a man who worked in the shadows he'd made a lot of enemies. Eventually Artemis simply thrust a legal pad and pen towards him which got a raised eyebrow from Mycroft.

"Do me a favor and write down everyone you can think of who may be personally offended by your and Lady Smallwood's existence to the point of putting a hit on you."

"Yes Ma'am." He teased with a smirk then set his empty coffee cup down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

He made to lean away only for Artemis to grab him by his navy tie and tug him into a deeper kiss. Pad entirely ignored, Mycroft slammed the lid of his laptop closed and thrust her up onto the hand-carved mahogany desk. Another deep kiss that she let him win and then he was pulling at her sleep shorts until she took the hint and lifted her hips up so he could get them off. He'd questioned why she was still in her pyjamas but found he'd stopped caring by this point. In one smooth motion Holmes the elder dropped to his knees before her and kissed at the inner of her scarred thighs.

"Does this make me the woman who brought the British Government to his knees?"

Was that a joke? Had Artemis started joking or was it just another of her sarcastic comments she wasn't aware she made? Mycroft neither knew nor cared, too lost in her perfect body and wet core. _And I've hardly even touched her yet, _muttered his mind.

Artemis let her head fall backwards when Mycroft started to stroke along her folds and around her heat teasingly. She was stunning laid out before him, her hands gripped at the desk, lips parted to let little groans and pants escape as his clever fingers explored her wetness.

She whimpered after too long of torment and forced herself to release the desk lest her nails leave marks on the antique wood. Instead Artemis pushed her hands into his hair, the short auburn strands silky under her touch; pleasure was one of the few emotions that could overtake Artemis. With a smirk he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, nibbling in places which caused her to cry out, her hips bucked involuntarily upwards in search of more; a sense of something she couldn't name flooded her.

"No need to be quiet, my love. Is this what you want?" Eichhorst whispered at her ear, accent impossibly thick in that moment. "For me to bring you off like this, my fingers inside you? Would you like that? To prove it's only ever _me_ you want."

"... yes. British, please." She gasped as the pleasure continued to dominate her body.

He adored that little nickname, he'd never been one for 'honey' or 'baby', too cutesy and stupid for him. However, 'British' wasn't a pet name anyone else had, it was her word for him. Yes, all those years ago he'd named her, given her a jumping off point for a personality but she'd bestowed her own name on him. For a long time he'd forgotten about the nickname but now she was back in his life he swelled with happiness every time he heard it; silly maybe but still.

Mycroft couldn't deprive the darling girl before him though, couldn't get lost in his thoughts, he'd just wanted to tease her a little, with a grin he peppered sweet kisses to her inner thighs once more, every now and again his tongue would lap over a scar.

"Mycroft." She breathed, the sound of his given name spurred him on, made him want to hear her scream.

"Shush, little assassin, I will make you feel good." He forced her thighs further apart causing Artemis to fall backwards, her back over his laptop.

She lay there half-naked before him while he remained fully clothed, almost impeccably so except for the was she'd messed up his hair. His tongue licked at her folds hungrily tasting the sweet flavor of his little assassin. Artemis gasped out a strangled moan, pleasure the one time her emotions managed to bubble to the surface. His tongue lapped at her folds, amazed by how wet she was for him, Artemis clawed at his shoulders uncaring as to what she did to the tailored fabric of his suit, her grip just tightened as his tongue circled her clit.

Mycroft kissed that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over making her scream louder and louder for him, then he slipped a finger inside her again while the other hand pushed her hips down to keep her in place. Her grip on his shoulders became vice-like but it only spurred him on as she moaned and panted for him. Another finger slipped into her wet heat and then another, he crocked them as he kissed her clit. It didn't take long for Artemis to start pushing back onto him in a demand for more, she was close and he knew that, so he sped up his torment, Mycroft delighted in her wanton gasps.

After a few moments of careful thrusting she moaned deeply and wrapped her legs around his head. Holmes the elder made sure to keep the thrusts going throughout her orgasm until she was left panting and shuddering, her eyes fluttered closed. Artemis felt nothing but pure pleasure, like a tidal wave which had washed away everything leaving behind just the blue, blissful ocean. Hades had tried to take every shred of feeling from her but Artemis had clawed her emotions back.

"Mycroft!" She moaned out breathlessly and damn did that fuel his ego.

He pushed himself up to feet and smirked when his lips met hers again, knowing she could taste herself on him. He basked at her beauty as she rode out her orgasm, eyes clamped shut and fingernails dug deep into his shoulders but he didn't care, _he'd _made her purr in pleasure, it was _his _name she'd called out.

~X~

Mycroft calmly walked into the outer office to see Anthea stood by her desk with a smile as she scented the large, front facing, bouquet of flowers by her computer monitor; a vast array of purple Lisianthus and pussy willow for height, partially opened white lilies and roses to provide with green Anastasia blooms as eye-catchers, lilac carnations and Gypsophila gave the bouquet a touch of nostalgia and a few sprigs of pittosporum just to break things up.

Mycroft didn't acknowledge the flowers, didn't even spare a glance, just grabbed the file she held out for him to take. Anthea slipped back into her chair and picked up the little card which had come with the arrangement.

"Thank you. MH." The assistant smirked. "What exactly for?"

Mycroft still didn't look at the younger woman, just continued towards his office door and pushed it half open before he finally responded to her question.

"You know exactly what you did."

With that the inner office door closed and Anthea just started laughing, a little giggle she made no attempt to squash or cover with her hand. She'd known her boss would approve of the dress she'd selected for Artemis the second she'd seen it. As her chuckling died down she slipped the little card back into the envelope which had come with her arrangement and paused a moment. It was beautiful and elegant from someone who most people would have thought this type of behavior completely uncharacteristic. Mycroft absorbed information everyone else thought irrelevant without even noticing it, how many other people in that building knew their assistant's favorite color?

Beyond happy with her flowers Anthea turned her attention back to her job and set about going over Mister Holmes' schedule for the next few days, she'd not been there five minutes before his voice came through the intercom box.

"Yes, Sir?" She enquired in that gentle voice of hers.

"_Artemis is down in the records room._" Had been for hours "_Would you please send orders to the record keeper to allow her into the priority ultra files for the last two years, thank you._"

Anthea nodded even though she knew there was no way he could possibly see her. "Of course, Sir, right away."

She made quick work of emailing the record room on the other side of the building and going through the standard list of authorizations and relevant details. If Mycroft was letting Artemis into the priority ultra files then she must have been on to something. Honestly Anthea hoped that the former Reaper really did find something, she was sick of people trying to kill her boss. Mycroft had been labelled the Iceman but he really wasn't, Anthea had been with him for years, she knew him better than most other people, this was the man who never forgot her birthday, who had brought the full weight of his power down on the asshole MP who'd decided it was his God-given right to slap her ass then call her a whore when she'd refused to have sex with him. Mycroft's profession had given him a hardened shell but his heart was still full of kindness and care. He wasn't good with people or all that social in general but he'd always been respectful and generous to Anthea; she honestly couldn't have hoped for a better boss.

It wasn't even twenty minutes later when the outer office door opened and in stormed Lady Smallwood with powerful strides as well as a deep scowl.

"Is Mycroft in there?" She asked without a shred of pleasantries.

Anthea's initial reaction was to roll her eyes but she resisted and instead looked up at the elder woman brightly.

"He is, yes. Shall I ask if he's available?"

Lady Smallwood didn't respond just made to march passed Anthea's desk as the younger woman rose to her feet in an attempt to block her only to essentially be shoved out of the way as Elizabeth opened the door.

"Sit down and don't argue with me." Elizabeth practically squawked.

She ground to a halt at his desk where the tall man had several files open before him, his suit jacket hung over the back of his chair and his sleeves had been rolled to his elbows. Mycroft was self-controlled enough not to sigh, he'd just been able to banish Nikolas' face from his mind, instead he leaned backwards and rested his arm on the rest in that way of his.

"Mycroft, what on earth happened last night? That killer of yours murdered five people and then you suddenly appear with bloody _sword_."

The auburn-haired man sighed, it was as if she honestly didn't understand these people had wanted her dead as well.

"It would seem that while Hades has failed to assassinate us there are still contract killers who desire to do so, I did send you a report earlier this morning."

He had better things to do than this, needed to finish going through his files, then had to plot the new possible Hades outpost locations onto the map he'd been keeping in his bottom drawer. Mycroft had respected Elizabeth for years but at this point he was fairly certain she was just flogging a dead horse.

"Yes, I read it, that doesn't change the fact that you killed someone last night."

"Well, it was either that or they killed us."

In truth he agreed with her. Mycroft had killed a man and as much as he tried to shove the memory away it would always haunt him, he wasn't like Artemis or even Sherlock and his beloved Doctor Watson, he couldn't just move on from that knowing he'd done the right thing even if it had been horrid. Mycroft hadn't killed that man to inflict pain or to satisfy some dark desire, no, he'd done it for one reason and one reason only, to save Artemis. His motives hadn't been evil, they'd been born of love and protection so he'd not let Elizabeth Smallwood berate him for it.

Her eyebrows shot upwards. "No need to sound so trivial about it. What are you doing to combat these attacks?"

Mycroft took out his pocket watch to peer at that time, how had she not even been in the room a full five minutes?

"As I stated in my report," he began with just a hint of exasperation, "I have doubled your security detail and have put a new security protocol into place for any and all further formal events. Furthermore, Artemis this morning ruled out all foreign government involvement meaning we are now down to those who feel personally wronged by us. Mostly myself of course. I have Artemis down in the record room going through the operations of the last twenty-four months for anything she believes to be relevant."

Lady Smallwood really didn't look impressed, then again she never did when Artemis' name was mentioned. If it had all been left up to the Parliament member Artemis would have still been locked up in an MI6 cell.

"You gave an assassin priority ultra clearance to all of our paper files?" She folded her arms across her chest.

Mycroft felt as though he were going in circles; he'd seriously had enough of this hate for Artemis. His girl hadn't ever wronged Lady Smallwood, in fact all she'd ever done was save her life.

"No, I gave it to my personal bodyguard and the woman intent on keeping us both alive doing so. However, if you would prefer I can certainly cancel all of your security, any prevention techniques and put a stop to Artemis' searching, it wouldn't take more than a phone call. Of course you'd have to accept you'd likely be dead by lunch, in which case I suggest you make sure your will is in order and decide if you'd like flowers at the service."

"Don't make such hideous jokes!" She snapped only to force herself to calm down quickly since she was fully aware that everything Mycroft had said was currently her best bet for survival. "Has she at least found something?"

On the inside the suit clad man smirked, he'd certainly won the conversation and she knew it. In all honesty they could have just not had this conversation and avoided the entire thing, would have been able to get some real work done then.

"I didn't think so, not yet. Now, shouldn't you be in a Parliamentary meeting?"

Long ago Lady Smallwood had stopped asking how Mycroft knew everything on her schedule no matter how pre-planned or spontaneous it was, the man had always been a bona fide pantomath and proud of it.

With no other avenue to head down Lady Smallwood straightened as her lips settled into a harsh line before she stormed out slamming the office door behind her.

Anthea watched from her desk as the elder woman marched passed her, the irritation practically dripped from her body. Whatever had happened in there she hoped it was over. Just then Mycroft's office door opened and the man himself leaned out.

"Oh, Elizabeth?" The older woman begrudgingly turned back. "From now on show my assistant some respect."

No response came, instead the Parliament member just left knowing Mycroft had been right, she did have a meeting.

Anthea smiled up at the suit clad man. "Thank you, sir."

"You may not have Dame or Lady in front of your name, Charlotte, but that does not mean you aren't entitled to some common courtesy."

With that the British Government vanished back into the inner office leaving her alone with her flowers. _Yep, best boss ever._

~X~

As soon as Artemis' clearance to view the priority ultra operations had come through she'd headed straight into the cage and set to work as quickly as she could. Regrettably most of it seemed irrelevant at best and useless at worst, in fact there were actually very few operations where both Mycroft and Smallwood overlapped.

The hard copy file room was a dark and somehow ominous place – not that Artemis noticed – it clearly wasn't travelled often by people and the lack of air vents, though understandable, left the entire place feeling like a cave. Everyone with access to that room hated to be in there for more than a few minutes at a time and with good reason, Artemis though, even if that sort of thing had bothered her she'd have powered through, needed to try to find something which would help Mycroft.

Eventually, after who knew how long, Artemis stumbled across a file talking of a terrorist organization who'd been responsible for several bombings during the last twenty years or so. The seemed more focused on the downfall of society rather than a single target and were driven only by global political views rather than racial or religious ones. This was the best lead she'd managed to come up with, the best chance at actual answers. Mycroft Holmes controlled the true running of Britain, had been known to prop America up – especially in the terms of clandestine operations, and had a habit of knowing almost everything going on at any one time whether it be domestic or foreign; for these people eliminating Mycroft could have opened up a plethora of opportunities. As she worked her way further through the file it became clear that it was one of the last operations Vivian Norbury had been able to get her claws into, that would have given them access to who knew how much secret information while she'd played both sides.

It was all she'd got so Artemis gathered the file all back together and headed out completely ignoring the the guy on the desk, he'd have just wanted her to sign things out and slowed her down anyway. She left the record room intent on returning to Mycroft's office only to be stopped to have some security guard loom over her. The grin he flashed her was too big and toothy.

"Hello darling, haven't seen you around before, must be one of the new secretaries or something. I'm Ben."

"Okay."

Artemis hadn't ever been much of a conversationalist and truly had better things to do than listen to whatever this man had to say. Her complete deadpan must have been amusing though because he chuckled and leaned in close.

"You're an odd one, ain't ya. I kinda like it. Not often we get an American around here." Ben rested against the wall as he continued to grin at her. "Not surprised I've not seen you before what with that huge ass attack, you must be new. Don't worry, we got this place locked down tight now."

Yes, Artemis was fully aware of all of it what with her having been the one to come up with it all. Artemis' dazzling green eyes flicked down to Ben's rifle, the man was just asking for her to take it from him and bludgeon him to death; surprising since the tattoo on his inner forearm revealed him as former army. If Ben had been army then he was either an idiot who'd survive by plain dumb luck or was incapable of taking his job with MI6 seriously.

Ben spotted her peering at the gun when he finally managed to look away from her slender body and the way her jeans clung tightly to her legs, it only made his smirk grow.

"Don't worry, darling, you're safe with me, promise. Whoever attacked us comes back I'll deal with them." He gestured loosely to her. "You gonna tell me your name?"

"Does this bravado usually work on women?" Again Artemis spoke with little to no outward emotion in her voice.

Ben was taken aback by that question, he really had no idea who she was; not that it was necessarily a problem. Green eyes finally found surname sewn on his black uniform.

"Something tells me that people like you, Benjamin Hudson, are he reason MI6 had so many casualties during the attack. What were you doing, hiding under a table? Oh, and if they do ever attack again, do me a favor and don't piss yourself."

Artemis had absolutely no time for Ben, the file guy or anyone else, she needed to keep Mycroft alive and the very best way of doing that was to see what he knew about this terrorist organization. Expertly she dodged around him only for the idiot to grab her by her shoulder.

"What the hell? You don't know anything about me."

The man wasn't attacking her, just wanted her to stop and listen to him but Artemis was a trained assassin, before she knew what she'd done Artemis had pushed, pulled, grabbed his weapon and kicked him to the cold ground with the barrel aimed at his head.

"I recommend you spend more time in training." She dropped the rife down at his feet while Ben just stared at her. "To answer your original question, my name is Artemis. I am not your darling, I am not a secretary, I am Mycroft Holmes' personal guard."

Ben's hazel eyes widened at the mention of Mycroft's name, everyone knew it wasn't ever a good idea to anger the man who ran literally everything. Instead he was left on the floor to watch as Artemis disappeared around the corner.

Meanwhile Myc remained up in his office as he poured through the ever growing data he had for possible Hades outposts. Reapers had been tracked back through fake passports to at least sixteen countries and thankfully he'd managed to narrow his options down to certain sections of those countries. They'd exhausted all the ones Artemis had known about and were left playing a deadly game of _Battleships. _He raked a hand through his hair as he stared at the map before him.

When his office door suddenly opened to admit Artemis he couldn't help but smile, happy for the brief pause to his work.

"That didn't take you very long."

Truthfully he'd expected her to be down in the file room all day, still, he was pleased to see her.

"I'm efficient." She replied easily which just got another smile from him; damn, he loved that woman.

"881-Alpha-640-Charlie-922. That's the only case file that could be responsible for this. Norbury had eyes on it as well so it stands to reason they had access to the names of who gave the orders."

The auburn-haired man dropped his pen down onto the desk then leaned forwards so he could rub at his temples with both hands.

"Oh why did I know that woman would come back to haunt me?"

"Also I recommend having Benjamin Hudson removed from active duty with security until someone takes the time to train him properly because who ever did so during his time in the army did an appalling job."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing on the subject. "I'll look in to the operation see what I can find. Come and look at this."

Quietly Artemis rounded the desk, pushed Mycroft's seat backwards just a little and settled in his lap. In an instant he'd wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin atop her shoulder so they could both still see the map.

"What did I do to deserve this?" He questioned as he indulged in her warmth.

"Your face was doing that thing."

His brow furrowed deeply. "What 'thing'?"

"The thing it does when you've had a bad day and want to touch me. I take it Lady Smallwood has been in." Clearly that wasn't a question. She raked her eyes over the large world map.

The older man just let out a small hum in answer, that was all he wanted to say on the matter, they did have Hades to deal with still.

"I've found another influx of Reaper activity around the Swiss-German border. Any ideas?"

His little assassin paused for hardly a second. "I can't give you a set destination, British, but looking at this I'd say they're using a bunker. You'd be amazed at how many bunkers and fortifications the Nazi's built in Switzerland near the border. Most of which were in forest land and remain undiscovered by civilians. Hades has taken over and used a variety of them."

"How has Hades located them?" Mycroft enquired in that deep voice of his.

"Hades works for whoever pays the most and the Nazi's had a lot of stolen gold and displaced children."

Well that was a topic that needed unpacking, though hopefully at a much later date. He'd known Hades had been around for a very long time but them working for Nazis, aiding genocide while being paid in stolen gold and innocent children … Mycroft had no idea where to go with that. He shoved the topic aside and clung tighter to her slender body to sooth himself.

"Now I know what I'm looking for I can use the satellites I have access to in order to search. If we can narrow it down further a team can go and scout out the area on foot."

She flashed him those perfectly polished emeralds. "Don't let them get complacent, British. After the previous breaches and the attack here we have eliminated maybe a quarter of the Reapers, possibly closer to a third, and with the generals dead the remaining are scrambling but that doesn't mean they aren't still heavily trained killers."

"I agree." Myc nodded. "They have no hierarchy left, what are their protocols?"

"There isn't one for this." That was true, generals died rarely and only ever one at a time, there wasn't any guideline to follow for complete annihilation. "Although, each HQ has a quartermaster it's likely they will take over as the new generals. They'll then select another Kerberos since we wiped out the Lesotho outpost."

"Wonderful having a woman with all the answers around." He teased then pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

With Artemis at his side Mycroft didn't doubt for a single moment that they'd finally put a stop to Hades and the horrors they inflicted; the murder, the child torture, the forced sterilization and all the other monstrosities.

His phone started to ring then, the noise echoed around his office seeming far louder than it should have. Reluctantly he released his right arm from Artemis' waist and fished it out from his inner pocket only to see Gregory's name displayed. He answered.

While Mycroft spoke with his friend Artemis fixed her focus on the large map and scanned through all of Mycroft's notes. She couldn't quite hear what Gregory said on the other end of the line but from the auburn-haired man's calm repetition of the words 'yes' and 'no' she assumed it wasn't anything life threatening.

She grabbed the pen he'd been using and jotted down the most likely locations for the Hades dominated Nazi bunkers. One of the first and most useful things Hades had taught Artemis was that using something someone had already built was always more effective than construction something oneself. People may have one days tumbled upon it only to think it a ruin and useless, it was disarming and made it far easier to put down threats.

"I suppose I can work from home for the rest of the day." Mycroft paused while his friend spoke. "Yes, I shall meet you there shortly. Goodbye, Gregory."

With the call over he tucked his cell phone away into his pocket then wrapped his arm back around Artemis' waist as if it belonged there.

"Problem?" She asked just as she finished marking the map.

"Not at all, just a change of plan. Gather up the map for me, we're returning home."

Artemis only nodded and stood to do as asked, didn't bother to question why. Mycroft collected his briefcase and slipped the file she'd brought him inside along with his laptop then accepted the neatly folded map which he rested on top.

Anthea was surprised to see her boss appear from his office again, she'd expected him to just hide out until his meetings but there he was with his briefcase and ever-present shadow guard. He paused at her desk.

"Charlotte, I will be working from home for the rest of today. Move my two o'clock to the same time tomorrow and inform my four o'clock that the meeting will take place via video conference."

Anthea nodded. "Yes, Sir. I'll inform Lord Callahan right away."

"Thank you, Charlotte. Once you're done you may as well take the rest of the day for yourself."

Oh Anthea perked up at that, even though she'd likely be there at least another hour sorting out his schedule.

Satisfied that Anthea would deal with his meetings he headed out with Artemis at his side, along the labyrinth of halls to the surface via the secure elevators and into his awaiting car which quickly drove them home.

That morning Mycroft had just been doing his best to force the guilt out of his mind, now though, now he and a better idea of where to look moving forwards with the remains of Hades while Artemis had managed to scrounge up a lead on who wanted himself and Lady Smallwood dead. It hadn't been the best information boost he'd ever had but it was better than nothing. Everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm a florist? lol


	32. Moonlight Vows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the hiatus is finally over. Sorry, I'd not expected it to be that long. Still, it's back and I hope this fluffy, indulgent chapter makes up for the wait.

Through the entire drive back to his home Mycroft and Artemis spoke of the details on their map, of where would be best to hit first and the probable locations of headquarters based off of their current intel; when the pair focused on work nothing stopped them. The couple only peered away from said map when Mycroft's driver came to a halt outside the house; Mycroft blinked rapidly, his eyes stung. After he'd thanked his dutiful driver and dismissed him for the day he easily slipped out of the car back into the light of day where a small ball of Violet thundered towards him, and jumped into his arms so forcefully he almost fell backwards against the car.

"Uncle Mycie!" Beamed the little girl.

Effortlessly he supported the young girl, Mycroft had grown used to Violet's little attacks in the years he'd known her and had learned to compensate for them mutch to his back's pleasure.

"Bonjour, ma petite princesse." (Hello, my little princess)

When his blue eyes peered upwards he found Greg sat on his steps beside what must have been Violet's suitcase topped with a purple teddy bear.

"Thank you so much for doing this, Myc." Began Greg as he stood and moved towards his friend. "I've got Violet for two weeks since her mother's decided to sod off to Bora Bora with that complete ass-" The DI suddenly fell silent as his eyes flicked to his daughter, he cleared his throat. "Anyway, the superintendent dumped this bloody conference on me so I'll be gone until Monday. I've got no one else to take her, but are you sure you're okay to have her until Monday? I know you're busy."

Greg looked so apologetic although Mycroft had already made his mind up. Meanwhile Artemis had packed the map away again into a neat little square and shuffled out of the car only to watch it a moment as it drove away.

"Worry not, Gregory, Violet will be fine in my care, I assure you. Go to your conference." He offered the elder man a reassuring – though small – smile.

"Do I really get to stay with Uncle Mycie and Aunt Artemis?" Violet asked hopefully which got a smirk from her father.

"Yes, baby girl, you're going to stay here for a few of days until I get back, okay?"

The child nodded as Artemis simply walked passed them all without a word and vanished inside the house with Mycroft's briefcase and umbrella in hand. Greg flashed his eyes to the young woman a moment before his attention turned back to his daughter and best friend.

"All right, so I told the school to call you if there were any problems and her schedule is in her book bag for you. I'd tell you where I'm going and all but it's you so I guess you'll just magically know like you usually do. I'll be back late on Monday." The silver-haired man sighed. "You sure you'll be okay taking her to school and everything?"

Mycroft could have rolled his eyes. "For the final time, yes, Gregory. Violet and I will be perfectly fine. consider what I do on a daily basis, Gregory, I can handle taking Violet to school."

The policeman nodded, of course Myc would be fine, _of course _he would.

"All right. Yeah, of course you'll be fine, it's you." Greg assured himself. "Oh, em, Vi has a dance lesson at nine on Saturday as well."

Violet and Mycroft shared a quick look at one another both child and genius having figured out Greg was mindlessly worrying.

"Gregory?"

"Yes, Myc?"

"Stop worrying, I am capable of reading a schedule. Now, go to your conference."

Lestrade couldn't deny that he was thankful Mycroft had so readily agreed to taking in Violet for him. He'd never left her alone with someone other than his ex-wife of course, that and he'd really been looking forwards to it being just him and his daughter. Myc had watched Lestrade Junior before but only for around an hour or so. Still, Mycroft was a good man and very good with Vi, the policeman knew his daughter would be okay; he was just worrying.

"Yeah, sorry, Myc." He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Violet's cheek while Myc still held her happily in his arms. "You be good for your uncle, okay?"

Violet nodded in agreement. "Yes, Daddy."

Everything would be all right, Mycroft was a genius and there was heavily trained assassin who'd keep any and all evil-doers away. Myc had taken care of Sherlock as a kid so Violet would probably seem like an angel.

"Good girl, I love you. I'll see you when I get back."

With another quick kiss to Vi's cheek Greg plucked his phone out of his pocket and headed off towards his car before he changed his mind and tried to take her with him.

Mycroft stood there a moment with Violet held tightly in his arms so she could wave at her father as he backed he car up and took off down the driveway. When the DI was out of sight Myc calmly carried the young girl up the steps and into the house, he paused only to grab her suitcase handle and wheel it along behind them with the purple bear atop it.

"Do I get to go to school in a spy car tomorrow?"

That got the British Government to falter for a moment as an eyebrow quirked upwards.

"Spy car?" He questioned and continued into the house.

Violet nodded happily. "Uh-huh, Daddy says you're '_a less sociable James Bond'_."

That got the suit clad man to let out a slightly displeased hum. "Mmm, does he now."

He shuffled Violet a little so she was held firmly in just one arm, she wasn't four any longer, while he took her and the suitcase upstairs, through the house and into one of the guest rooms. It was the same one she'd stayed in before so he was sure she'd settle in quickly enough. Once inside her room Mycroft finally set her down on her feet and stopped the suitcase at the foot of her bed.

"Why don't you go ahead and unpack your things, I have a call to make. Once you're done I'll look over your schedule. Would you like help with your math homework later?"

Violet flashed him that look, the questioning one children got, and she paused with dark eyes locked on her uncle. Frankly her expression was the clincher that she'd not done her homework.

He leaned down with a smirk. "I know everything, ma petite."

Mycroft couldn't help teasing his little charge. With that she set off to unpack her things and place her bear on the bed. The British Government watched her for a moment before he left her be. He headed back along the halls and down the stairs, the entire time he talked away on his phone, but thankfully, by the time he'd reached the basement door he'd settled everything and tucked the phone away again. He passed through the door and down the stairs, quite frankly even Mycroft wasn't entirely sure what he'd got stored down there any longer. Eventually he reached the door to Artemis' training room and inside found his raven-haired beauty doing handstand push ups in the middle of the room. She'd changed out of her more presentable clothing and into a black sports bra and yoga pants. Blue eyes focused on her for a short time because, damn, was she beautiful, even in the most basic of moments.

"How long will Violet be here?" Asked Artemis without halting in her movements.

He silently praised her as he stepped further into the room, she'd not paused, she'd not faltered, Artemis had just kept the push ups going as if she wasn't having a conversation while upside down.

"Gregory will collect her late on Monday, so five days. Will Violet's presence be a problem?"

"No." Responded Artemis simply. "Just needed to know how long I needed to adjust for."

Myc cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Adjust?"

What could Artemis possibly needed to _adjust _for? It wasn't as if she'd be expected to suddenly play doting aunt to Violet, and she certainly wasn't expected to mother the girl. Violet had already figured out for herself that Artemis was a little – for lack of a better term – strange, she knew Artemis wasn't much of a conversationalist and could be really rather blunt; that was _why _Violet had taken to her.

"I am a very light sleeper." She started to explain for him, still there wasn't even a pause in her movements. "What happens if I'm not aware she's here for an extra day, hear her coming into your room at two in the morning because of a nightmare and accidentally shoot her? While I'd feel no guilt I'm sure child murder isn't on your list of approved executions."

Mycroft paled as his stomach turned, he knew Artemis would never intentionally harm Violet but he could certainly see her point; worse he could see it happening.

"All right, probably best to avoid that at all costs."

"Exactly." She agreed.

By that point he'd lost track of how many push ups she'd done. He couldn't help but just watch her for a moment, her movements were calculated and controlled but no less smooth and elegant. He'd called her ethereal and he'd meant it.

"How do you do that so _quickly_?"

"A combination of core and upper body strength. I can teach you if you'd like."

"No." He elongated the word which turned a one syllable word into a four syllable one. "I don't think that shall be happening any time soon. Also, are you going to stop at all, it's just I tend to like people looking at me when I speak to them."

At that Artemis finally stopped and stood to her full height. Raven hair had been tied up in a high ponytail but a few strands hung loose to frame her face, those magical green eyes shined up at him; truly no woman had ever so firmly captured his attention. Beautiful.

"Better?"

Mycroft smiled as his arms wrapped around Artemis' slender waist and pressed a kiss to her lips. She could kill a man in two seconds flat and yet she always settled into his arms like a purring kitten.

"Certainly better." He admitted happily.

Artemis rested her head against his chest, she knew he enjoyed just holding her and she'd never take that away from him. Soon she got another gentle kiss to the top of her head, Mycroft really was a loving person just never got much of a chance to show it.

"I will aid Violet with her math homework after my meetings and then we will go out for dinner."

Artemis nodded. She'd suspected as much, neither of them ate very often and there was hardly anything in he fridge anyway.

"I'm going to run on your treadmill a while then take a shower."

~X~

Several hours later Mycroft had finished his meetings, helped little Violet with her homework, taken two calls Gregory referred to as 'just checking in calls' and finally made it to dinner with his beautiful lover and the little girl he'd come to think of as his niece. Throughout their meal he'd sat with Violet beside him and Artemis opposite, it wasn't as posh or fancy – as Gregory would have called it – as his usual haunts but still there were candles lit and a background hubbub as families ate, business men sipped their whiskey and waiters hurried plates around.

Mycroft and Artemis had opted out of dessert – almost always did – so the British Government was left to sip at the remains of his wine while Violet happily ate her slice of chocolate cake with a gleeful smile. While Myc avoided dessert as much as possible he'd never have deprived the little girl who'd lit up at the sight of caramel sauce and ice cream with her cake.

He'd never show any outward suggestion of it but Mycroft had truly enjoyed his evening with Violet and Artemis, he liked making Lestrade Junior happy. He was fully aware he was just indulging himself, probably should have been in his office working hard but no, this was far better and after everything that had happened in the last week he deserved a break at the _very_ least.

When the bill arrived Mycroft paid it somewhat regrettably, he knew as soon as he returned home his job would once again dominate and the evening the three had shared would settle into the realm of memory. It wasn't a problem exactly, Mycroft liked his job, but sat there at dinner with a happy little girl and the woman he loved … it was blissful.

The drive home was short and quiet, just the sounds of other cars passing them and the engine. Violet was already half asleep as she yawned and rubbed at her eyes, then there was Artemis who had a tendency to not speak unless spoken to, Mycroft didn't mind, he was actually thankful for the quietude as it allowed him to indulge just a little longer. Eventually though the car rolled to a stop outside his house and his dream world came to an end.

As they slipped out into the cool night air Myc noticed the way Vi rubbed at her eyes, in truth it was a little late for her, she should have been in bed almost an hour previous. Kindly he lifted her into his arms and carried her up into the house, Artemis held the door for them to which he nodded his thanks then took sleepy Violet upstairs to her room. Artemis trailed behind until she broke off to their bedroom.

Once Violet was on her feet he flicked on the bedside lamp and got her pyjamas out from the dresser.

"I'll get you some water." He said as he set her clothes down on the bed. "Brush your teeth and get changed for me, all right, ma petite?"

The dark-haired girl nodded sleepily in agreement. Pleased the suit clad man headed off to get her that glass of water, didn't take him long, his house was big but not ridiculous. Upon his return he set the glass down while Vi crawled into the big bed. With a tiny smile he tucked her in for the night.

"Night, Uncle Mycie." She yawned.

"Goodnight, Violet. Go to sleep now, you have school in the morning."

She nodded. "Thank you for dinner."

Her eyes slipped shut and she tugged her bear closer to her chest to snuggle. Mycroft breathed out a little laugh at the comment, Greg honestly had raised a polite and good-hearted little girl.

"You are most welcome."

Just to further indulge himself the auburn-haired man leaned down over the bed and kissed her forehead before he flicked off the light and turned to leave only to spot Artemis stood in the doorway dressed in just her night things. After a calming breath he moved them both out into the hall and shut the door. Wordlessly the pair went to their room just down the hall and Artemis slipped straight under the covers while Mycroft tugged his tie loose so he could change. Green eyes focused on him, never left him for a moment and it wasn't until he was buttoning up his black silk shirt that he finally cracked.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You love her, don't you."

It wasn't a question but still Mycroft turned to face her fully just as he finished with the buttons.

"She's essentially my niece at this point so yes, of course I do." He answered her as though it were all very simple.

"I'm sorry." Those dazzling eyes turned away a moment. "I don't want you to regret not having a child because you're with me."

Mycroft's brain ground to a halt at that before it suddenly clicked back on and he went straight to the bed where he sat staring at her.

"Artemis, I love you."

"But it's not fair to ask you to love me more than your urge for fatherhood. Especially when it's probably the reason you took to me so easily years ago. You saw a little girl in need of help so you saved her."

Mycroft sighed. He hated that she thought she was just holding him back, that she thought she'd never be good enough for him. Yes, he wanted a child, he'd _always _wanted that. Thinking about it the want had probably originated by having always taken care of Sherlock when they were young. But he _loved _Artemis, loved her more than anything. He'd destroyed his suits for her!

His mind flicked back and forth between thoughts for a moment before he got back out of bed and made his way to the dresser, he rummage a split second in the darkness of the night only to return with something she couldn't quite see.

"I can't stand by and let you think you're disposable any longer, Artemis." He knelt on the bed, an unusual pose for him. "You've already made decisions on who Artemis is, the accent and a whole host of other things big and small. I mean yesterday you decided you didn't like pineapple." A small smile settled on his lips. "I gave you the name Artemis because it fit you so well, the strong huntress who chased me down in the moonlight." Mycroft paused but only for a second. "I was hoping you'd let me give you a name because of who you are to me as well. I hoped you would let me give you Holmes."

Finally he revealed what he held in his hands, only the moonlight illuminated the room. There, held in large hands, was a small, black ring box which he opened the lid of to display a ring that sparkled in the magical light of night. A normal woman would have gasped, cried, smiled, _something_, but Artemis wasn't a normal woman.

"I've been thinking about this since I gave you your file but it became quickly apparent there is no right time to ask in our line of work. Marry me, Artemis? Please? I love you. I love _you_. I don't care about what you can't give me, I only care what you can and already have given me. You took a lonely, middle-aged man and reminded him that the world is still beautiful. A man who viewed marriage as a pointless trap and showed him that with the right person it can be a blessing. You can't be a mononym forever. I'm sorry this isn't exactly romant-"

"Stop talking." She spoke over him to get the tall man to shut up.

He fell silent, deathly quiet with a tiny nod. There was a hush cast over them for a moment as the moonlight backlit him leaving a silvery halo around his head. Mycroft stared into those impossibly green eyes as they twinkled and sparkled almost mesmerizing. Eventually, when the silence started to grow too long, to heavy, too thick, Artemis leaned in and kissed him softly, it wasn't a passionate kiss though it did overflow with the love she had for him.

"Yes, I'll marry you." Her words were light but they hit him like a train.

Mycroft's heart fluttered, his mind faltered, but his soul soared. A grin spread across his face as his blue-gray eyes lit up. At the start he'd completely disregarded the idea, then when he'd thought about it Mycroft had almost talked himself out of the whole thing. Now though? Oh he'd never been so happy to be wrong.

With a grin he slipped the ring on to her finger and let the box drop onto the duvet. His hands rose up to cup her cheeks and then his lips met Artemis' for a bruising kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue. When the pair finally broke apart Myc fell back against the soft bed and pulled Artemis so she cuddled into his side.

"I Love you." He said into the night.

"I love you too."

She pressed a kiss to his silk covered chest, her hand on his stomach.

"Have you really been thinking about this since you showed me my file?"

Blue-gray eyes stared off up at the ceiling a moment before Mycroft nodded softly. He had. Gregory had been the one to first put the idea in his brain but not until she'd tossed her real name into the fire and asked to just be Artemis had the idea bore fruit. Girlfriend had been a surprise, a monumental one, but fiancée and eventually _wife, _well, never in his wildest dreams had he believed, hoped, yes, but never let himself believe.

He'd imagined a thousand more romantic settings for asking her to be his bride, candlelit dinners, quiet nights in the Stranger's Room, Mycroft had even thought about taking her to a gun range at one point. Thousands of ways, all of which were more in keeping with the media's view of romance but Artemis wasn't the love interest in some film and Mycroft sure as hell wasn't the masculine leading man. They'd met in darkness with unknowns stretched out before them, they were two halves of the same coin and those sides belonged together. They'd started lit by moonlight so it seemed only fitting that this happened in moonlight as well.

She actually wanted to be his wife, to spend her life with him and Mycfroft had to admit, Artemis Holmes did have a nice ring to it.


	33. French Toast And Strawberries

When Mycroft awoke the next morning it was the sound of his own heavy pants as a surge of pleasure ran through him along with a deep moan which seemingly startled him. He'd woken to this wonder before, knew exactly what had roused him. With a small smile Mycroft slipped his hands down to trail through sweet Artemis' long, raven locks. Mycroft had been woken by alarm clocks, unruly sun as it crept through a slit in the curtains, when Sherlock had been young Mycroft had even woken up to being repeatedly slapped in the face a couple of times. However, the wonders of Artemis' mouth wrapped around his erection was by far the greatest way of being woken the British Government had ever had the good fortune to come across. Mycroft groaned, or maybe it was a gasp he didn't quite know.

"About time you woke up." She said before putting her mouth straight back to work.

"And what a lovely way to wake up … fiancée."

He was close, Mycroft wanted to last longer but he knew it wasn't a possibility. _So _close as she swallowed him down. His nails scraped against her scalp as he fought the urge to thrust up deeper into her throat and choke her; to give in to his masculine, primal urges and find his climax. Artemis pressed her hands down on his hips to keep him still.

"Christ, Artemis!" Mycroft moaned out.

So close, so _damn_ close. What angel had gifted his sweet Artemis with such a beautifully perfect mouth?

"A- Artemis, I'm going to-"

As if to tease him the raven-haired former assassin hummed around his length and Mycroft just could take it any longer. His eyes rolled back in his head as his orgasm struck him full force.

"Jesus!" He cried deeply from the back of his throat as she swallowed him down blissfully.

Mycroft had no idea how long he lay there panting, but when the auburn-haired man finally managed to make his eyes flutter open he found Artemis' green eyes focused on him as she loomed over him, her lips still glistened and by God did it make his sensitive length twitch with further want.

The hour was early, the sun had just started to rise; he guessed maybe five or five-fifteen. Still, there was a very naked woman in his bed.

For a moment Myc had thought the previous night had all been a dream, a magical little fantasy where she'd said yes but it hadn't been a fantasy, Artemis had actually said yes. Artemis wouldn't be an assassin or a bodyguard or a former Reaper any longer, she'd be his _wife. _

He snaked his arms around her slender waist. "Can't possibly forget about you, now can we, my love."

With a teasing smile Mycroft pulled he pulled her close. Despite his genius Mycroft still couldn't figure out what he'd done to deserve Artemis, he'd left her to die in a fire and yet there she was, pinned underneath him with her legs spread wide for him.

~X~

Mycroft felt terrible, his heart actually ached as he crunched through snow looking for the river Artemis had informed him of. His brain told him to keep going, to follow the young girl's instructions and find his way back to the world but something in the back of his heart wanted him to run back to that cabin and pull her out even if Hades' Reapers would kill him. He sighed as water finally reached his ears – _going in the right direction then – _it would have been too late now anyway, the girl he'd named Artemis was dead.

He stared down at his hands while he continued to walk, blood had dried around his fingernails but even his OCD didn't have the heart to care. Mycroft _hated _legwork, he needed to get that promotion, needed to stay behind a desk because … he couldn't watch as another child's blood dried into his hands. Mycroft hadn't been designed for this, he didn't have the heart for it … or maybe the problem was that he had too much heart.

The auburn-haired man's breath came in and out in heavy pants, he needed to get somewhere warm before his legs dropped off. The sound of running water had been enough to rouse his damaged heart but it was still distant. The sound of crunching snow had become a theme song of sorts, a hated one, in fact, Mycroft honestly believed that if he _ever _saw a single snowflake again it would be much too soon. All his life he'd been indifferent to the frozen wonderland everybody else seemed to love so much, now he never wanted to see it again, never wanted to be reminded of the day he'd had sex with a girl little more than a child and then left her for dead. She'd told him she'd survive but Artemis had been handcuffed, bleeding out and in a quickly burning cabin; she hadn't had a chance.

It took him hours to reach the city and hours more for Mycroft to return home to London. By the time he had his eyes stung and begged him for some sleep but he still had a report to file and Uncle Rudy as well as a set of assholes who wanted to debrief him. It was roughly ten o'clock the next morning when he finally left the office for some sleep. Normally he'd have had a car drive him back home but he'd been cooped up in a plane for fuck knew how long and wanted some quiet time alone, he could walk.

His feet carried him forwards along the streets, people had already started their day all of them going this way and that completely oblivious to what had happened in Finland not even a full twenty-four hours previous. He just stared at the sidewalk as he shuffled along or at least he did until a rhythmic flash of red caught his attention, gray-blue eyes tilted upwards to see the open sign of tattoo parlor he didn't care enough to register the name of. They had a selection of their art work in the window; animals, cherry blossoms and a whole host of other delicate works both in color and black and gray.

Mycroft only realized he'd stepped inside when he heard the bell jangle above the door. He'd never really thought about a tattoo, just something else he'd been indifferent to, but still he made his way to the counter as a man a little older than himself with a beard and tattoos over the entirety of his arms greeted him. Why was he there? Why had his brain stopped functioning? Why wasn't he even sure what he'd said to the man?

"Yeah, we can do that for you. It's still early and only a small work so I can do it for you right now if you'd like."

Mycroft nodded even though he wasn't sure what he'd agreed to. He calmly followed the bearded man to a chair and sat down then rolled up his sleeve for the man. It wasn't until a stencil of a small 'A' was set on his wrist that Mycroft's brain managed to catch up.

"This your girl's name?" Asked the bearded man once he'd started work.

Mycroft didn't look at the tattoo artist, just stared off towards the door.

"Yes."

"You know, we can always do the full name if you like." He chuckled. "Unless it's one of those really long names."

"No." Mycroft answered sorrowfully. "The one letter will be fine. Tattoos aren't exactly appropriate for my profession and … I don't think I could bear to look at her full name."

The bearded man glanced up then and froze as the look on Mycroft's face made the strange sentence clear, it wasn't the expression of a man who'd been dumped, it was the look of a man who'd lost someone he loved; whoever 'A' was, she'd died.

"Oh." Said the tattoo artist quietly before he turned back to his work.

Artemis had been denied a name all her life and now she was gone. To the other Reapers she was just a dead body that needed disposing of, she deserved better than that. Artemis, that was the name he'd given her and even if no one else ever thought of her again _he _would, Mycroft would remember her name, he'd remember she'd existed. Artemis had saved his life while he'd ended hers, the least he could do for her was to remember her. He could already feel it, his brain making room for her inside his mental city. Inside his mind was the only place Artemis could exist now and she was more than welcome.

~X~

Mycroft lay there on his back with Artemis cuddled up against him as he stared at his small tattoo. He pressed a gentle kiss to his new fiancée's temple and let his arm fall back to the bed all while post orgasmic bliss continued to tingle inside his body.

Long ago he'd though he'd lost her but there Artemis was cuddled up to his side happy and alive. Mycroft had thought he'd killed Artemis and yet she seemed pretty certain that he'd saved her.

The auburn-haired man blinked rapidly, he wouldn't cry, he wasn't that sort of a man, and took a breath. As much as he'd have liked to stay there with Artemis in his arms all day but they couldn't.

"As much as I'd like for us to remain in bed, I do have an awful lot of work to before Violet wakes then we must take her to school."

"How domestic. Think we need a shower first though."

Myc smirked. "Oh, I agree."

Intent on avoiding his memories both Mycroft and Artemis took a quick shower peppered with lingering kisses before they got themselves dressed. Mycroft went to his office and Artemis down into the basement for some target practice. The British Government wasn't entirely sure how long he spent tapping away on his laptop but found himself actually grateful when his phone beeped to let him know it was time to wake Violet.

Calmly he rose to his feet and made his way down the long halls of his home. He and Artemis had been up for hours but Violet had been allowed to sleep in until a more reasonable hour. Mycroft quietly pushed her bedroom door open only for his eyebrows to shoot up at the sight of an empty bed.

"Violet." He called out but received no answer.

He called her name a few more times as he checked her bathroom then headed towards the staircase. _Where the hell did she go? _Mycroft had just been about to yell out her name again when he peered over the railing and down into the main body of his house, there he found little Violet stood by the basement door still in her pyjamas. Quickly he made his way down the stairs and to her side to peer at the closed door.

"What are you doing, Violet?" He questioned without irritation.

The child jumped at his sudden appearance but still smiled up at him when she noticed it was her uncle.

"I woke up and came looking for you but then I heard banging." She replied as her attention turned back to the closed door.

Myc rolled his eyes because he really needed to have that room soundproofed better, Greg had been able to hear the fired rounds from the floor above and now Violet had managed to hear it through two closed doors. When Artemis fired some of the higher calibre weapons it was like a tiny explosion from the basement. Still, Violet looked genuinely worried so the suit clad man rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Nothing to worry about, ma petite, it's just Artemis."

Vi turned her dark eyes – her father's eyes – back up to her uncle. "Is she building something?"

That got a smirk out of him. "Not quite." Without much of an issue he guided little Violet away from the basement door and back towards the stairs. "You go and get dressed for school and I'll make you some breakfast."

Mycroft was pleased with the grin the child gave him and charged off up the stairs to get dressed for the day. Happy she'd not asked too many questions about what Artemis did in the basement he turned and walked to the kitchen at the back of his rather large house. Violet always liked something sweet in the mornings and he had the time so Mycroft quickly set about making her Vi and Artemis French toast and strawberries for breakfast; it would satisfy Violet's sweet tooth and if he didn't put food in front of his bride to be she'd never eat. After the first set of bread had been set to toast, it sizzled heavenly, Mycroft filled the kettle and set it on the stove to boil for some much needed tea.

He'd practically finished with their breakfast when Artemis slipped into the kitchen, she carried the scent of gun smoke with her, it seemingly danced around her in faint whips. He couldn't help but smile softly when their eyes met for a split second; the kettle whistled.

"Breakfast is almost ready, Violet is getting dressed." Myc informed as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips before turning back to pour the tea.

"Did you have fun in the basement?" Asked Mycroft. "I really don't see why you need a M82A2."

Artemis just shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to blow a hole in something."

A chortle left the suit clad man, an honest to God chortle while he set three cups of tea down on the kitchen table. Green eyes watched as he plated up their breakfast and placed the plates by their teacups.

"Would you get the maple syrup out please, Artemis?"

Myc spied his fiancée out the corner of his eye, watched as she reached into one of the uppers to grab the maple syrup especially for Lestrade Junior. Mycroft had truly never expected to have a wife – life of the perpetual bachelor for him – but Artemis wasn't like anyone else he'd ever met or ever would meet. Artemis scared most people, made them uncomfortable because of how unpredictable she was and how skilled, but every time Mycroft gazed upon her he felt nothing but love for the younger woman. No, Myc didn't just love Artemis he adored her, she wasn't a monster, she was a protector. It took the British Government a few seconds to notice her staring at the ring on her finger, for a moment he stayed quiet and just watched but eventually found his lips moving while words poured out.

"Do you not like it?"

He hadn't intended for so much worry to fill his voice but it had anyway and there wasn't anything he could have done to take it back.

"You put a lot of thought into this ring, didn't you?"

She didn't look at him, just fixed her eyes on the band which now called her fingers home. It truly was beautiful, a large emerald surrounded by small diamonds, expensive without looking ostentatious.

With breakfast on the table Mycroft didn't hesitate to take Artemis into his arms, his hands settled on her slender hips as she pressed her chest to his.

"I thought a huge diamond was far too predictable for one and also you do have a tendency to punch people so I thought a large jewel was inappropriate."

Mycroft Holmes, logical to the end.

"And the emerald?"

The taller man smirked. "Well, your eyes are my favorite but of you." Oh they were, they truly were. "I love you."

"I love you as well, British."

He leaned down to kiss her, a soft caress of lips on lips and...

"Ew, kissing!"

Two sets of eyes flashed to spot Violet stood in the large doorway dressed in her school uniform as she pulled a childish face of disgust. _Children, _muttered his mind. He separated himself from Artemis and pulled a chair out for the little girl.

"Come and eat your breakfast."

Violet grinned down at her plate while Artemis sat opposite her, Vi quickly doused her food in syrup as they'd all suspected she would. Artemis watched her a moment until Mycroft sat down with his own plate of regular, boring toast and a little jam; Mycroft's ever present diet was still clearly in play it would seem.

Violet crammed a fork full of breakfast into her mouth. "This is really good, thank you, Uncle Mycie."

"You're very welcome, ma petite, but don't speak with your mouth full." He took a bite of his own toast, chewed and savored the strawberry jam. "Do you understand your math homework better now I've helped you?"

The girl nodded. "Yes! I have a test next week and now I'm not so scared. I'm not good at math." Brown orbs suddenly turned sad. "I wish I was real smart like you and Sherlock."

Mycroft would have breathed out a small laugh had he not been half way though chewing another bite of toast. A lot of people probably would have brushed over that comment or not even noticed it but the elder Holmes brother noticed everything and certainly didn't want to leave Violet feeling inferior or worse yet _dumb_.

"Ma petite, intelligence has no bearing, there are always things we are not suited to. For example, Sherlock is incapable of drawing with any real skill, stick figures are about his limit. Yes, he could go to classes and educate himself but it would never match up to Rembrandt or Monet. I have never been good at sports and have no desire to be, your father however is quite the different story. Then there is Artemis who possesses a wealth of skills and abilities but -"

She cut him off. "I can't feel pain."

Mycroft's eyes flicked over to her instantly because was that a good thing to mention in front of a young child? Vi paused with a fork full of toast half way to her mouth.

"You can't feel _pain_."

Artemis nodded as she continued to eat. "I do not recommend seeking it out, Violet, but pain should not be undervalued. It does not exist to hurt us but to inform us. It tells us we are injured, tells us when it is time to stop. However, I cannot feel it. My instructors told me pain was a weakness but it isn't, I could bleed to death and not even notice the wound until too late."

Violet paled so Mycroft quickly jumped in, it really wasn't the best morning conversation.

"My point is that no one is ever perfect at everything, we always lack in some areas that others may not. Focus on what you are good at, excel at that rather than lamenting your other subjects. Of course still try your best but do not pressure yourself."

"I like English. I like books." Violet swung her legs clearly having been cheered up.

"Do you think you'd want to have a career which stemmed from your classes? Author, librarian, literature professor, there are a great many options." He tried to encourage as he watched her skewer a small strawberry.

"Can I be a spy like you?"

He flashed her a half-smile. "Ma petite, I'm not a spy. I'm a … bureaucrat."

Vi lifted an eyebrow. "A bure- buro- a bureaucrat? What's that?"

"A long word which basically means I do a lot of paperwork."

"Does bureaucrat link to English?"

Oh sweet little Violet.

"It does, yes. If you want to work for the government then I'm sure you'll do very well." He praised despite the fact he doubted she'd ever really want his job.

After that the trio finished breakfast with Artemis being eerily silent as always then all piled into Mycroft's town car so Violet could go to school. The drive had hardly taken any time at all and soon Violet had said her goodbyes and hopped out the car to rush to her friends. Myc rolled down the window to watch her better as she laughed and giggled with her two friends; Kelly and Savannah were their names if he remembered correctly, which of course he did. He felt a squeeze in his heart when she turned back to wave at him through the school fence, Mycroft didn't wave back no matter how much he wanted to … wanted to play father. That thought shut him down really very quickly, he was happy to be an uncle to both Violet and Rosie, he had Artemis, he didn't need more. With a small sigh he did his best to hide the auburn-haired man told his driver to take them on to the office.

Artemis watched them while they drove, for someone who didn't feel things very well she always seemed to be able to decipher his.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine, my love." He insisted only to lean in and give her a kiss on her temple. "We have much to do today. I shall need to look through the reports of what our satellites have managed to track down."

And just like that Mycroft slipped back into work mode and Artemis didn't try to stop him, he needed to shift gears and she'd never force him not to.

The pair stayed in a calm silence for most of the drive, occasionally they'd pass a sentence back and forth but mostly it was a comfortable quietude between them. When they finally entered Mycroft's outer office Anthea shot up from her chair which left the two women to follow him through to the inner office where he quickly took off his suit jacket and sat himself down once it was over the back of his chair; both dark-haired women stood opposite him.

"I have these for you, sir." Said Anthea as she handed over a brown file full of images.

"Thank you, Charlotte."

Anthea flashed him a polite smile. "Would you care for some tea, sir?"

He nodded. "Yes, thank you. Also, if you'd kindly have my one o'clock pushed to tomorrow that would be wonderful."

Anthea's expression turned slightly apologetic. "Regrettably your schedule for tomorrow is already full, I could always push tomorrow's one o'clock meeting in order to make room."

Myc thought a moment. "It's just a meeting with Thomas Fusco, just have it rescheduled for whenever the next slot is."

"Very good, sir."

With that Anthea left the inner office closing the door quietly behind herself while Mycroft started to go through the images and Artemis unfolded the map they'd been using to mark down Hades activity.

"From these I'd say that there is certainly foot traffic towards the north. I should have a team sent in to scout the area and pinpoint these Nazi bunkers you spoke of."

"Perhaps I should go with the scouts, I know the traps that Hades will set up."

Mycroft nodded as he continued to examine the satellite pictures. "Maybe you should. I intend to join you and the soldiers as well."

Artemis' head tilted in that way of hers. "You should stay out of danger."

He finally peered upwards to her. "I have no intention of running in all guns blazing. I will remain out of the way just as I did before. I will join you though. We have Hades on the ropes and cannot let up, this must be seen through to the end."

Artemis agreed, they had to stop this before they could start a mass kidnapping to replenish their ranks.

"As long as you stay back."

She finally took a seat in one of the guest chairs to join him in going through the photographs while Myc jotted things down on the large map.

The sooner Hades and its Reapers were dealt with the better. With Hades gone there wouldn't be children stolen from their homes and families as Artemis had been, and those children wouldn't be tortured until numb to everything except an order, there wouldn't be rich megalomaniacs with trained assassins on speed dial.


	34. WWMD?

Violet Lestrade left school at the end of the day with her friends, Kelly and Savannah on either side of her but Kelly quickly branched off eager to find her mother so she could attend her cousin's birthday party.

All day Violet had been getting odd looks from Sav, questioning looks and it seemed that then as they approached the gates Savannah had decided to ask.

"Vi, who was that man who dropped you off? He never even left the car but he was still scary."

Violet chuckled because absolutely nothing about Mycroft was scary, not even remotely.

"That's my Uncle Mycroft."

Sav raised a dark eyebrow as they ignored the noise all around them. "I thought your uncle lived in France."

"Yeah. Mycroft isn't my real uncle, he's Daddy's best friend. He's really nice to me though, I'm staying with him while Daddy is away."

"Is he rich? He looked rich. You should totally ask him for a pony."

Violet nodded. In all honesty she'd never really thought about it, yes she knew her Uncle Mycie to be very well off what with those suits and that big house of his, but it wasn't something he threw around and insisted everyone wanted to know. A pony would have been nice though, not that she thought she'd get one.

"Yeah, he's rich." She replied as they rounded two older boys as they kicked a soccer ball back and forth. "Daddy says he runs the country, that he's a spy or something."

The dark-skinned girl chortled at that as she adjusted her backpack. "No he's not! That's not real."

"That is what we wish for people to believe."

The two girls stopped dead in their tracks then just outside the gates and peered the much taller woman before them blocking their path; Artemis. While the other parents and guardians stood casually waiting for their kids but Artemis appeared more like a soldier stood at ease because, well, that was exactly what she was. Her back was straight and her hands were cupped behind her back, her feet slightly spread apart. Artemis wasn't dressed like the other adults either what with her black slacks and waistcoat completed with a crisp white shirt, the sleeves of which had been rolled up to her elbows.

Savannah's dark eyes instantly widened at the sight of Artemis, specifically the two guns which sat snugly in her shoulder holster.

"Aunt Artemis!" Violet beamed as she hugged into the former assassin's side.

Even the child knew well enough not to expect the hug to be returned; Artemis wasn't the touchy-feely type. She settled for holding Artemis' left hand while she peered around for the auburn-red haired man and fortunately the killer didn't object.

"Are you ready to leave?" The raven-hair woman asked, quick and straight to the point.

"Yes." Answered Violet easily enough. "Where is Uncle Mycie?"

Bold green orbs flashed down to Lestrade Junior. "He's moved a lot of meetings around recently and cannot leave the office."

In all honesty caring for Violet while Greg was away had thrown the proverbial spanner in the works for Myc's schedule but he did not mind, would have accommodated Violet no matter what. Either way he'd be trapped in his office and conference rooms until really rather late.

"He sent me to get you instead." Said the elder woman as though it were all very simple. "Come."

Artemis gestured over towards the car with the hand not still in Violet's. The car stood out against those of all the parents, it was sleek, perfectly waxed and ominous compared to the 'Soccer Mom' cars and hatchbacks.

The little Lestrade had just been about to say goodbye to her friend and hurry off towards the car when Savannah's mother appeared from almost nowhere and smiled down at her daughter, or at least she did until she spotted the guns Artemis wore. They were holstered and provided no threat in Artemis' eyes but she was stood outside a school and just mentioning the word 'gun' near a school could start a panic. Later Mycroft would likely lament that he hadn't told her to take her holster off and leave the weapons in the car.

"Em, hello, you are?" Said Savannah's mother in that 'who the hell are you and why are you around kids' tone of voice.

Artemis regarded this shorter woman a moment with her full face of make up and bright yellow dress. There wasn't any need for conversation with Savannah's mother and from what Artemis had learned from those Mycroft was forced to speak with, this wasn't small talk exactly; which was good because she'd never been much good with that.

Violet, however, was wise beyond her years and more aware of Artemis' oddness and had quickly figured out it was the guns which terrified her more than just Artemis' strange personality; _Daddy always leaves his in the car_. Violet had seen her father help Mycroft when he put people on edge and clever Lestrade Junior would do the same for the woman she'd proclaimed to be her aunt.

"She's my Aunt Artemis, she works with Daddy. He's a policeman." Violet lied.

Sav's mother knew Gregory Lestrade was a cop and hopefully it would pacify the elder woman. Savannah was one of Violet's best friends but she'd never liked her mother, the woman always had to know everything about everything.

"Hello." Artemis only said that one word because she'd learned enough to notice saying 'hello' was usually a good idea.

The dark-haired woman straightened up a little as if Artemis was somehow a threat on a personal level. She thrust her hand out for Artemis to shake but the former Reaper made absolutely no move to take the proffered hand.

"I gathered." Artemis turned her attention down to Violet. "Come along, Violet."

With that Artemis started towards the car having clearly finished the conversation, Vi's hand slipped from the elder woman's hand while Jada's face grew concerned and just a little bit irritated.

"Violet, honey, are you all right?"

The child nodded, nothing bad would ever happen to her while she was with her aunt. "Yes."

"Do you actually know that woman?"

Even the dark-haired child didn't like the way Savannah's mother said 'woman'. She nodded again.

"She's my aunt."

Jada didn't look happy but had no real further course of action, Violet clearly wasn't scared and didn't seem to be lying.

"Okay, sweetie." Jada flashed an unsure look to cast the assassin who stood not six feet away at the car door. "Not a people person, is she."

Violet laughed because she'd heard people say that about both her aunt and uncle before. "I think that's why she and Uncle Mycroft like each other. Bye Savannah. Bye Missus Owens."

Violet hurried off happily then and Artemis kindly opened the door for her to hop in which she did. She waved at her friend and her mother as the expensive car rolled away but soon they were out of sight and silence dominated the back seat. Violet swung her legs back and forth for a moment before Artemis – surprisingly – broke the quietude.

"Your friend's mother doesn't like me." Mentioned the dark-haired woman without much care.

The little girl was confused, she didn't know what there wasn't to like about Artemis, she was odd sure but still kind and helpful in Violet's eyes.

"Why not?"

The woman with an American accent still didn't seem all that concerned. "I have a tendency to scare people with my mere presence."

Most people probably would have explained that differently since they were speaking to a child but Artemis didn't know how to make that distinction, she'd never had a childhood herself so had no knowledge of how to speak to a kid or how they thought.

"I'm not scared of you, Aunt Artemis."

The elder woman nodded, just once and curtly. "Good, that would make things complicated."

A very odd way of phrasing something to Violet but Artemis said a lot off odd things and Vi had learned to ignore most of it.

It wouldn't be too long until they reached Mycroft's house and though she missed her father the little girl had enjoyed staying with her uncle.

"Mycroft informs me that you will have homework to complete once we arrive at the house. I will most likely not be as helpful as Mycroft would be were I to aid you." Artemis' voice came seemingly out of nowhere but Vi didn't jump.

"That's okay. It's just a thing for history." Replied the little girl as she continued to swing her feet.

The pair fell back into silence for a while, Vi knew that her aunt didn't speak all that much but still she felt a little awkward. Her Uncle Mycie wasn't one for unnecessary conversation either but he at lest knew how to keep a conversation going when needed and noticed when a conversation turned uncomfortable. After a while, maybe five minutes, Violet had been able to take the silence any longer.

"When will Uncle Mycie be home?"

Green eyes found the child's dark ones. "Not until quite late according to him. He is in meetings until six and then has … _things _to attend to."

Violet quickly assumed them to be 'spy things'; car chases, espionage and such; not that she actually knew what espionage meant. In reality all it meant was a lot of Mycroft sitting at his desk as he filled out paperwork.

As predicted it hadn't taken very long at all for the two women to return home to Mycroft's vast house and as soon as they were inside and the car had been sent away Artemis made a bee-line straight for the kitchen.

"I'm going to go and get changed and start my homework." Announced Violet as she stepped towards the stairs.

If left up to Vi she'd have forgotten about her homework a while, might have done it at the weekend, but Mycroft liked for her to have done it and her father would have approved too; best to just do it and get it all out of the way.

"Okay." Replied Artemis flatly. "Mycroft told me to make sure you ate."

Seconds later she disappeared and Vi realized that no more information would come. Artemis really was odd but Violet had always known that and it was most of the reason she liked her.

Violet charged up the antique stairs and to her room knowing that it was her only opportunity to run in Mycroft house without reprimand. Didn't taker her long to get out of her uniform and into something less polyester. Then she set the single sheet of paper which was her homework found itself set on the fair-sized desk where she just stared at it for a few moments. The whole thing was stupid. In the end she hauled the sheet and pencil case over to the large bed where Violet sat Indian style. She'd already started on her family tree project in class, in fact they'd been working on it for

several days but with her father gone she'd been left to finish it alone.

The dark-eyed girl had already gotten most of it done and listed proudly were her father, grandparents and mother along with her Uncle Pierre beside her father's name. That was when Artemis suddenly entered the room with a plate in one hand, how Artemis could appear so quickly and so quietly she really didn't know. Violet's brown eyes watched as the plate topped with a sandwich was set down on the nightstand, but they brightened when Artemis sat down on the bed beside her.

"What is wrong?"

Vi shrugged in that childish way all kids had. "I have to do a family tree for school, but it's not big enough."

Artemis clearly didn't understand so she leaned in to stare at the sheet of paper as if answers would magically appear. It was a simple looking thing with a little sketch of a tree and boxes for each family member which Violet had already filled out in her neat for a child handwriting.

"Not big enough?" She questioned still none the wiser.

Violet nodded. "The boxes for my aunts and uncles all say their my moms or my daddy's brothers and sisters. How do I get Uncle Mycie and you in?"

Artemis' head tilted ever so slightly. "We are not blood."

"Doesn't mean you're not family." Vi didn't appear to be deterred in the least. "How would you do your tree?"

"I wouldn't." Artemis answered simply before offering the child some rare detail. "I have no family, they all died. I will technically have Mycroft's once we are married though."

Violet's expression turned sad then, she couldn't imagine life without her father or mother even if they were divorced.

"You're an orphan? Like Annie but with less singing?"

"You could say that." Was Artemis' response even though she'd got no idea who the hell Annie was, although she doubted that she wanted to.

Without warning Artemis grabbed the sheet and flipped it over so the blank back shone upwards, she then picked up Vi's pencil case and held it out towards the girl; dark eyes just stared at her.

"Aut inveniam viam aut faciam."

Violet lifted a single eyebrow as confusion coated her face. "What?"

The elder woman explained. "'I shall either find a way or make one.' If this diagram is incorrect you should make your own. Mycroft and his parents have taught me a great many things, among them is that blood does not always make family. Siger and Madelana Holmes share no blood relation with Rosie Watson and yet she is their granddaughter. Your father is not Mycroft's brother and yet he is your uncle. If this diagram does not fit your family then make one which does."

Violet beamed at that and quickly hugged Artemis tight, after a few seconds the former assassin even rested a hand atop the little girl's back in an attempt to be supportive and comforting; needed some work but Myc would have been proud of her.

"Thank you!"

Vi ripped open her pencil case and started to draw a new, more accommodating, tree. Artemis rose to her feet and stepped away from the bed.

"Eat your sandwich, I will be in the basement."

Little Violet didn't even look up as the woman she's named aunt left the bedroom, not that Artemis noticed, she just made her way down the stairs and quickly texted Mycroft to inform him that Violet was safely at the house doing her homework and had been fed just as instructed. All she received as a reply was the word 'understood' which told Artemis all she needed to know; Mycroft was in the middle of a meeting otherwise he would have called.

Once at the bottom of the stairs she headed straight for the basement, she needed to clean her Remington, in fact she'd probably overhaul her collection and give everything a good cleaning.

~X~

It took Vi a little over an hour to work out how to get everyone on the tree in a way that both made sense and was pretty, then another half hour to actually draw and color it all, but she'd managed to fit her blood family and her Uncle Mycie onto the family tree and was proud of herself. Actually, it wasn't until she'd started to put away her crayons that Violet started to worry she'd be told off by her teacher for not doing her homework properly but she shoved the thought away; to her this was properly. One of the boys in her class had two dads, was he going to get yelled at for crossing out mother and writing father again? Before any other concerns could reach her she shoved the work and pencil case back into her book bag then grabbed the empty plate.

Mycroft's house was eerily silent as she made her way down the grand stairs and through into the kitchen where she left the plate. Violet called out for her aunt a few times but no response came and she wasn't overly surprised, Artemis had said she'd be in the basement after all. Slowly she stepped to the basement door, the same door that Mycroft had scooted her away from when she'd heard the odd noises. Everything was silent this time around, had Vi not known Artemis was in the building she'd have assumed she'd been left home alone.

With a calming breath Vi opened the basement door and headed down the long stairs, she was a little scared as she walked through the basement to the room at the very end from which shone a light under the door. As soon as she pushed the door open Violet was met with a large but sterile room, one wall of which was covered over by guns up on racks. This room wasn't like any other in Holmes the elder's house, all sleek and dangerous looking.

Lestrade Junior's eyes quickly found Artemis sat with her back to the little girl as she did something with a broken down gun.

"Finished?"

Violet jumped because she'd not realized she'd been noticed and Artemis hadn't peered over her shoulder. Quickly she went to the table with an eagerness to know what her aunt was doing.

"Yeah. What are you doing?"

"Cleaning my guns, bad things happen to people who use unclean weapons."

Vi cocked an eyebrow. "Like they get their hands dirty?"

Oh the innocence of childhood.

"Something like that." Finally Artemis looked at the young girl with her polished emeralds.

"Can I help? Daddy doesn't let me near his gun."

Of course he didn't, no one in their right mind left an eight year old alone with a loaded weapon. Everybody knew it wouldn't end well.

"Very wise," the elder woman agreed, "they shouldn't be handled by people who don't know how to use them."

Vi perked up at that, a smile softly spread across her lips. "You could teach me! Then I could help you all the time!"

Artemis paused as her brain shifted gears and went through the inner question of 'what would Mycroft do' for a moment. Surely he'd instantly say no and shoo her upstairs away from the weapons and back to something less violent; a book perhaps.

With her question answered Artemis calmly explained. "From what I've learned of children we should probably ask your father first. If he says yes then I will teach you."

Violet beamed. "Really!" Even after her aunt had nodded Vi still didn't quite believe it, she'd honestly expected to just be told no. "Yay! Thank you, Aunt Artemis. Can I still help now?"

Artemis paused once again in much the same fashion she had not a minute previous. "I suppose you can load the magazines for me."

The little girl sat herself down beside the former Reaper, an eager glint sparkled in her dark eyes.

"What do I do?"

Without hesitation Artemis pulled a box of 9mm rounds forwards so it sat in front of Vi at the table then ejected the magazine from one of her already cleaned handguns. She took a bullet and slid it into the magazine at a third of her usual speed so Violet could watch every single movement then rested the magazine beside the box of ammunition.

"Keep doing that until it's full. Once the handguns are done I'll move on to the rifles."

While most people would have avoided letting an eight year old near a gun even just to learn how to load them, Artemis wasn't most people. She'd been given a gun at the age of four and been expected to do far more than load it, she'd been expected to shoot, to take people's lives regardless of race, religion or creed. Children with guns was perfectly normal to her, to be honest Myc and Greg should have been pleased she'd actually thought about it rather than just training the girl.

Together they managed to get a little conveyor belt going, Artemis cleaned the weapons thoroughly and reassembled them while Violet loaded the magazines. It wasn't until they heard Mycroft's voice that the two women realized just how long they'd been sat there in a constructive silence.

"What is going on here?" Asked the British Government in his usual deep voice and the pair turned to look at him.

He'd popped his collar button open, lost his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, a clear mark that he'd had a long day and wanted to forget about it all.

"I'm helping Aunt Artemis with her guns. She taught me to load the magazines, that's this bit." Said the child by way of explanation as she held one of the Beretta magazines up for him to see.

"Did she now." He paused a moment as if trying to decipher how to handle the situation, in the end he just sighed and moved along. "Have you had dinner?"

Mycroft very much doubted it so wasn't surprised when Vi shook her head.

"Good. Go wash your hands, I brought pizza."

Violet happily bounced off to do just that after she'd given the oh so tall man a quick hug which left Mycroft and the porcelain-skinned woman to stare at one another.

Artemis stood. "Was I wrong?"

"Did you let her shoot?" He questioned quickly.

"No, she asked me to teach her but I said she should ask Lestrade first."

Mycroft let out a little hum. "Then no, not wrong. However, don't let her back down here unless Gregory allows this."

Artemis nodded in understanding, the suit clad man knew kids and Gregory better than Artemis ever would. He stepped towards her and quickly pulled the younger woman into his arms for a kiss, Artemis' hands easily found their way to his loose tie so she could deepen the kiss. Her hands stayed there until he started to push her shoulder holster down her arms, the two heavy pistols were cast away in their harness with little consideration to the table; it made thud but the pair ignored it.

The kiss deepened easily and soon the taller man had her pressed against the wall closest to the table, his arms tightly around her waist – possessively almost – as want started to rise within him. All too soon it was stripped away from them though when they grounded to a halt as Violet's voice drifted through the door from the stairs.

"Uncle Mycie, I can't reach the plates."

Myc sighed. "Looks like I need to put my height to good use."

The British Government stole one more kiss then backed up and returned to the doorway. He paused.

"Oh, don't bring your gun to the table tonight. Best not keep her focused on this and it has gone nine, we shouldn't keep her up any longer than we have."

Artemis nodded because she'd come to live by the code of whatever Mycroft Holmes said goes.

"I wasn't expecting you back until the early hours." She told him as she followed her new fiancé out of the basement.

"I decided to bring my work home. Thought Violet would appreciate my presence for dinner and I couldn't take Lady Smallwood any longer. She's not happy about the base incursion we're planning. Then again I don't think she's happy about much."

With that they went to dinner, Mycroft deserved some time away from the government even if it were only a few hours before everything started up again.


End file.
